


Mistake

by omgsynecdoche



Series: Haikyuu Post-Timeskip AU [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Akaashi Keiji is a Martyr, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Cheating, Explicit Language, Iwaizumi Hajime is a Good Friend, Kuroo Tetsurou is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Minor Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Oikawa Tooru & Sugawara Koushi Friendship, Oikawa Tooru is a Good Friend, Sawamura Daichi is a Mess, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:20:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27419428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omgsynecdoche/pseuds/omgsynecdoche
Summary: It was probably the worst day of Daichi’s college life. First, he had overslept and missed his first class. And then, he got his English exam results back and found out that he had failed, narrowly missing the mark by a measly two points. And then, Suga canceled on him and their long weekend plans. So he decided to skip the rest of his classes that afternoon in favor of the first bar he could find.It would end up probably being the worst night of Daichi’s entire life.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Kuroo Tetsurou, Iwaizumi Hajime & Sawamura Daichi, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kuroo Tetsurou/Sawamura Daichi, Oikawa Tooru & Sugawara Koushi, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Series: Haikyuu Post-Timeskip AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133273
Comments: 26
Kudos: 77
Collections: Haikyuu Angst Week 2020





	1. Cataclysm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an entry to Haikyuu Angst Week 2020, with each chapter responding to a prompt. I had originally planned to do a short one-shot for each prompt, but in the middle of writing this (and as I got away from me again and again), I realized that the concepts I had in mind for Days 4, 5 and 6 could actually be tied together in one story. And here we are!
> 
> Also, I imagined this to be some sort of prequel to my other fic, "Enough", but both can stand on their own completely. 
> 
> This is Day 4: "I wish this never happened."
> 
> TW: cheating

Daichi pushed the front door of the apartment open and immediately slammed it shut right behind him. He kicked off his shoes and stomped into the kitchen. He passed by the living room where Kuroo was sitting on the couch, his long legs stretched out on the coffee table, mindlessly staring at the TV in front of him, a cigarette between his lips.   
  
“Where’s our stash?” demanded Daichi, opening the overhead cabinets. He didn’t really need an answer. He found the alcohol, plucking a bottle of bourbon from among the collection. He wrenched it open and took a huge gulp right out of the bottle before choosing another bourbon and heading to where Kuroo was. He slammed the unopened bottle onto the coffee table, right beside Kuroo’s long legs, before crashing onto the floor. He leaned on the couch and took another swig from the bottle, tilting his head upwards.   
  
“What are you doing here?” Kuroo asked. “Where’s Suga?”   
  
“Fucking Oikawa,” Daichi muttered, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.   
  
Kuroo coughed, sputtering on the drag of the cigarette he had just taken. “Suga and Oikawa are _fucking_?”   
  
“No, _asshole_.” Daichi grunted. “Suga’s not here ‘cause of fucking Oikawa.”   
  
_“Dude,”_ said Kuroo, taking another drag, “you missed so many words there the first time.” He exhaled, a light haze of smoke escaping his nostrils.   
  
Daichi flipped his roommate the bird. “Just fucking drink with me,” he growled.   
  
Today was probably the worst day of Daichi’s college life. First, he had overslept and missed his first class. And then, he got his English exam results back and found out that he had failed, narrowly missing the mark by a measly two points. But the last straw was Suga canceling on him.   
  
Suga had promised to come to Tokyo and spend the long weekend with him. He was supposed to pick him up at the train station at 6:00. But at 3:00pm, Suga called and said he couldn’t make it. Oikawa was having a meltdown, he said, and he didn’t think his roommate should be alone, especially not on a long weekend.   
  
Suga was caring and protective of his friends, but especially so of those truly close to him. The Karasuno boys didn’t coin the nickname “Sugamama” for nothing. He doted on those around him, sharing his light and love with the world. It was one of the things that Daichi truly loved about Suga, one of the things that made him fall in love with the boy, all those years ago. But Daichi had been having a bad day, and honestly, the only thing that was getting him through it was the thought of seeing his boyfriend in the flesh after three whole months.   
  
Daichi had plans. There was an expensive hotel room waiting for them, and a couple’s massage, and some time in a jacuzzi. And then there were all the meals that were to be served in their room. Leaving the hotel room was not one of Daichi’s plans, after all, which was why he had splurged on a nice one.   
  
The thought of spending the entire weekend with Suga in that hotel room was what kept him going, despite the clusterfuck of a day he was having. More specifically, the thought of spending the entire weekend with Suga in bed, naked.   
  
Daichi loved that Suga wanted to care for Oikawa. Really, he did. But as his boyfriend, didn’t he deserve to be taken care of by Suga? He couldn’t understand how Suga could just blow him off like that when they had this long weekend planned for a month.   
  
So Daichi lashed out. Maybe Suga was forgetting that his boyfriend was in Tokyo, Daichi sneered, and that his boyfriend needed him. Meanwhile, Suga’s voice was calm. He didn’t get into a shouting match with Daichi. Instead, he asked for some patience and understanding.   
  
But who was taking the time to understand Daichi? No one.   
  
Daichi yelled into the phone. _“Fine! Be with Oikawa! Be with everyone else but me! Who am I anyway, just your fucking boyfriend!”_ He ended the call and turned off his phone, and then decided to skip the rest of his classes that afternoon in favor of the first bar he could find. After drinking amounts of alcohol valued as much as his failed weekend sex marathon, he went home.   
  
And now here he was, a quarter of the way through the first bottle of bourbon.   
  
Didn’t Suga miss him as much as he missed Suga? He felt like the answer to that was ‘no’. He felt like he was the only one who was excited about this weekend. Granted, Suga had no idea about his plans. Suga probably thought they were just going to hang out at Daichi’s apartment, try to have sex quietly while Kuroo was in the other room, maybe go out for a bit of shopping at some point. But even so, didn’t Suga want to be with him as much as he wanted to be with his boyfriend?   
  
Daichi knew he was being childish. Immature. Unreasonable. But he just really, really, _reeeaaally_ wanted to be with Suga right now. Was that so bad?   
  
“Fuck,” he muttered.   
  
“You’re pathetic, you know that?” Kuroo said. Daichi finally looked at Kuroo. His roommate had finished his cigarette, the ashtray holding the still-glowing embers, and had diverted his attention to the bourbon. Kuroo was swirling the bourbon around in a glass — where did the glass even come from?   
  
“I’ve never seen you like this before,” Kuroo said solemnly. “What the fuck, Sawamura?”   
  
Daichi ran his fingers through his hair and tugged. Kuroo had a point. He had never gotten angry at Suga like this before, and never for this reason.   
  
“You wouldn’t get it,” Daichi growled. Only someone in a committed, long-distance relationship would understand the gnawing pain in his chest. Not someone who had a boyfriend named Akaashi Keiji who lived like two blocks away from the university’s main entrance. Not someone whose boyfriend dropped by in the middle of the day to bring him some snacks. Not someone who had never truly felt what it was like to be miles away from the one person he needed the most. So no, Kuroo wouldn’t get it.   
  
“Alright, fine, don’t talk to me,” Kuroo shrugged. He slid off the couch, sinking beside Daichi. Kuroo grabbed the bottle of bourbon — the one Daichi wasn’t holding — and placed it beside him on the floor before pushing the coffee table away, freeing up space to stretch out his long legs without obstruction.   
  
Both Daichi and Kuroo were way beyond wasted in no time. Daichi had been tipsy even before he got home, but Kuroo quickly caught up to him. They had finished three bottles of bourbon before moving on to tequila, which was the first thing Kuroo grabbed from the cabinets. They were making a serious dent in their alcohol stash, but Daichi just felt like drowning in it tonight. It was better than drowning in the pain of missing Suga, or in the guilt of attacking him the way he did.   
  
Daichi was drowning in alcohol. He was gasping for air. Everything was closing in on him.   
  
Kuroo’s face was closing in.   
  
Daichi was drowning. He couldn’t breathe. His pants were too tight. They were cutting off his air. He needed to take them off.   
  
He arched his back into the couch, lifting his hips and sliding his jeans and his boxers off in one swift motion. He wiggled and kicked the garments away.   
  
Daichi couldn’t breathe. He was gasping, desperate for air. Maybe there was something he could grab on to, keep him afloat.   
  
He grabbed Kuroo’s shoulder, digging his fingers into the hard muscle. He felt Kuroo grab both of his biceps and drag him up onto something solid, something hard.   
  
Daichi couldn’t breathe. He was in suffocating heat — was he drowning in _fucking boiling water_ _?_ — and it was everywhere. Against his palms. Under his fingernails. On his chest. On his arms. On his thighs. On his ass.   
  
He felt the heat, wet and solid and thick, inside him. He needed more of it. He rose up slightly on his knees and then sank bank down, the heat now pressing against him, into him, inside him, deeper _fuck_ , pounding, again _shit_ and again _yes_ and again _oh fuck_ , and Daichi was breathing his last breaths, the air spurting in thick grunts in time with the heat pulsating inside him, until one final breath escaped him in one low growl, and he was gone.   
  
Daichi opened his eyes. He was alive.   
  
Kuroo was still inside him, utterly spent.   
  
_Holy fucking shit._

*****

Kuroo slowly opened his eyes and stretched his long limbs. He rolled to the side, throwing one arm over…   
  
An empty bed. Of course.   
  
He covered his face with his hand, squeezing his eyes shut. His head was throbbing. He was hungover, but he didn’t black out last night, and he remembered everything.   
  
Last night was… he had no words for it.   
  
One second, he and Daichi were drinking their asses off. Daichi hadn’t wanted to talk about whatever went down between him and Suga that night, and Kuroo didn’t press him. The less Kuroo knew, the better.   
  
Another second passed, and Daichi’s mouth was on his. He controlled himself for about a second, then decided to test it. He pressed harder slightly, asking for permission. And then Daichi allowed him in, opened up to his tongue, to his breath, to his moans.   
  
Another second passed, and Daichi was taking off his pants. He watched for about a second, he couldn’t believe what was happening, but here it was, and he did as Daichi did.   
  
Another second passed, and his bicep was in Daichi’s vice-like grip. He had thrown all reason out the window, acting on pure animal instinct, and simply pulled Daichi up into his lap. He couldn’t believe what was happening, but here it was. He pressed into Daichi, and again was granted permission to open Daichi up, and he did so easily, without hesitation, without objection.   
  
Another second passed, and he was thrusting, grinding, moaning, grunting, fucking _floating in air_. Daichi was surrounding him with delicious heat, giving him everything, life, love, passion. Daichi was so warm _yes_ and so good _god fuck_ and was so fucking tight _shit_ , and he felt the waves crashing on the shore _fuuuuuck_ but Daichi was still at sea and he wanted Daichi to feel those waves too, and the moment he said _“Daichi”_ there it was, the hot, wet release, the low growl.   
  
_“Koushi.”_   
  
Kuroo didn’t realize how much he had wanted Daichi until last night.   
  
Akaashi was a good boyfriend. He was funny and sweet and thoughtful. The sex was amazing too. But somehow, Kuroo had always felt like something was off. He tried to brush it off, tuck it away, shove it down the depths of his black soul, but the feeling kept bubbling towards the surface.   
  
He then tried the logical route. There had to be some rational explanation for this. If Akaashi was such a good boyfriend, and Kuroo wasn’t wanting in any department, then what was wrong?   
  
And then, after months of observation and rationalization, Kuroo came to a conclusion.   
  
His heart skipped a beat when he saw Akaashi, but it hammered in his chest whenever Daichi came home, and it threatened to jump right out of his rib cage whenever Daichi flashed a smile at him. A heat coiled in Kuroo’s groin when Akaashi took his clothes off, touched him, licked him, but not as tightly or urgently, just waiting to fucking snap, when Daichi stepped out of the shower with a towel around his waist. He cocked an eyebrow when he saw those boys flirting with Akaashi at the bar, but his fists clenched and his body was ready to attack when he saw Daichi with other men.   
  
With Suga.   
  
Fucking Sugawara Koushi. He hated how Daichi’s eyes lit up when Suga came into the room. He despised how Daichi’s laugh sounded like the best sound in the world whenever Suga told a joke. He loathed how Daichi grunted Suga’s name when they were tucked away in Daichi’s room, thinking he couldn’t hear them.   
  
Last night would’ve been perfect. The way Daichi writhed in his arms, clawed at his back, tasted on his tongue, bounced on his lap. It would’ve been perfect, except for that last part. That part that he loathed. That part that Daichi said Suga’s name.   
  
Kuroo fucked Daichi and the name on the man’s lips was still Suga’s.   
  
Last night did nothing but cement into Kuroo’s entire being that he was in love with Sawamura Daichi. And that Daichi was stupidly, unbelievably, unshakeably in love with fucking Sugawara Koushi.   
  
_I wish this never happened._ If Kuroo’s only takeaway was that he was going to be fucking miserable for the rest of his life while Daichi dances through his with _fucking Suga_ , then what was the _fucking point_?   
  
Kuroo dragged a hand down his face in frustration.   
  
Suddenly, there was a loud crash from outside his bedroom door. The sound, though muffled, still drove a knife into his alcohol-addled brain. He got up and dragged his feet to the kitchen where Daichi was standing near the fridge, a glass of water in hand, shards of glass scattered in front of him. Daichi seemed stunned, frozen to the spot.   
  
Kuroo sighed and turned to grab the broom and dustpan from the cupboard. He began cleaning up the mess. As soon as he was done, Daichi muttered,   
  
“I’m sorry about your pitcher.”   
  
Kuroo simply grunted in response.   
  
Daichi leaned against the kitchen counter and chugged his water, his eyes closed. He shook his head vigorously, like a dog shaking off water from his fur, and then stretched his right hand across his forehead, trying to dig into his temples with one hand as hard he could.   
  
_Stop staring,_ Kuroo berated himself _._ It was his turn to shake his head and snap himself out of it. His brain felt like it was swimming in alcohol.   
  
Kuroo’s ears were suddenly filled with a weird, high-pitched sound. It made his head hurt even more and he winced. Why did the doorbell sound like _that_?   
  
“Did you get breakfast delivered or something?” Daichi asked. Kuroo shook his head. He watched as Daichi unlocked the front door and pulled it open, revealing the last person Kuroo wanted to see.   
  
_Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me._

*****

Daichi rubbed his eyes, then blinked repeatedly. He must be seeing things. Suga wasn’t standing right outside his front door. He couldn’t be. He was supposed to be in Sendai, taking care of Oikawa.   
  
“K-Koushi?”   
  
“Hi,” the visitor replied in a soft voice that was sounded very much like Suga’s. “Can I come in?” he asked after a pause.   
  
Daichi stepped aside and motioned for the man to enter. His hair was the exact same shade of silvery grey as Suga’s. He smelled like Suga’s cologne. He was taking off the same shoes that Suga always wore, his favorite pair, before stepping into the hall towards the living room.   
  
“Hey, Kuroo.”   
  
“Suga.”   
  
So Daichi wasn’t seeing things. If Kuroo could see it too, then maybe it really was Suga.   
  
“Koushi, what are you doing here?” Daichi asked.   
  
“Oikawa calmed down,” Suga replied in a small voice, lowering his head. “I know we already lost a day, but I was hoping we could still spend the weekend together?”   
  
Daichi stepped closer to Suga, but kept an inch of space between them.   
  
Suga looked up at him with glossy eyes, tears threatening to spill out.   
  
“Daichi,” Suga said slowly, “I’m sorry.”   
  
Daichi couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.   
  
“You were right. I should have prioritized you over Oikawa. I’m with him every single day and we only get this weekend.” Suga bowed his head, twisting the hem of his t-shirt in his fingers. “I shouldn’t have canceled. I could have gotten Oikawa to calm down, then maybe gotten Hanamaki or someone else to come over and take care of him. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.” Suga cupped his cheek. “But I’m here now, Dai.”   
  
Daichi sighed and leaned his face into Suga’s hand. He was cool to the touch, a comforting sensation in the warm weather. He wrapped his arms around Suga’s waist and buried his face in the crook of Suga’s neck.   
  
“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” Daichi said, his voice muffled. “I’m sorry I lashed out at you. I’m sorry I took my bad day out on you.”   
  
“No,” replied Suga, resting his forehead on Daichi’s shoulder. “I should’ve been there for you. You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”   
  
_Oh you have NO IDEA._   
  
They stood in the middle of the hallway for a long while, wrapped in each other’s arms. Daichi relished in Suga’s presence, the feel of Suga’s body against his, the beating of their hearts against their chests. Daichi loved Suga with his entire being. He had missed him. He couldn’t believe that he was here now, just to be with him.   
  
Kuroo coughed and cleared his throat loudly, and then announced, “I’m gonna be gone in ten minutes, please hold off on sex until then, thank you very much.”   
  
Suga chuckled, lifting his head and twisting his torso to face Kuroo, who was standing a few feet away. “Thanks, Kuroo, I’ll try to keep it in my pants for the next ten minutes.” Suga turned back to Daichi with a smile and gave him a quick kiss on the lips before hugging him again.   
  
That smile. It got Daichi every time.   
  
It got him to eat mapo tofu that burned a hole in his intestines. It got him to walk the boy home every single day after practice. It got him to wait for the same boy at the corner of the street every morning on the way to school. It got him to say “I love you” one late afternoon towards the end of their first year in high school. It got him to watch ridiculous movies that he would never have spent his money on even if you paid him to. It got him to buy the Karasuno problem children meat buns after practice every so often. It got him to throw his cares out the window and snuggle closer at night during training camps. It got him to apply for a law degree despite his self-doubts. It got him to think about a future with the same boy, who had grown up to be a beautiful man, by his side forever.   
  
That smile made Daichi feel warm, calm, loved. Like he was the best version of himself, because Suga loved him.   
  
And now that smile wrung Daichi’s heart out in his chest. Dropped a brick of lead in his stomach. That smile made him feel all the guilt in the world.   
  
He had to confess. He couldn’t lie to Suga, even by omission. He could never lie to Suga.   
  
_Fuck._   
  
_I wish it never happened._

*****

Daichi managed to make use of his original reservation at the hotel. Aside from the fact that the schedule was off by a day, Daichi’s plans were going swimmingly. The massage was relaxing, and the sounds Suga made was not only proof of how good it truly was, but also got Daichi going. The jacuzzi made their bodies slick and warm, and Daichi pulled Suga onto his lap, thrusting until Suga’s back arched at an impossible angle. And then Suga had his way with him on the bed, first on his back, and then on his knees, Suga cursing like a sailor as he filled and stretched Daichi, slowly at first, and then hard and fast until the hotel linens were ruined with the sticky remnants of Daichi’s pleasure.   
  
They were now relaxed in the bath, Daichi’s back resting on the cold porcelain, Suga’s resting on his chest. His head was tipped back onto the rim of the tub, his arms draped over it and dripping water onto the bathroom tiles. Suga’s hands were running up and down his thighs.   
  
“I’m glad I came here,” Suga said softly. Daichi smiled. He sat up and wrapped his arms around Suga’s waist, leaning them both forward. He pressed a soft kiss at the top of Suga’s spine and felt him shiver at the contact.   
  
“Me too,” Daichi whispered into Suga’s skin, as he trailed kisses to the side of his neck. He heard Suga’s breath hitch at the same time that Suga squeezed his thigh.   
  
“Fuck, Daichi,” Suga moaned, tilting his head to allow Daichi easier access to the length of his neck.   
  
“I’m gonna be walking with a limp tomorrow, aren’t I?” Suga laughed.   
  
“Maybe,” Daichi teased. “Or maybe _you_ could fuck _me_ until I can’t walk.” 

*****

“That was delicious,” Suga said with a smile, which Daichi returned fondly. Dinner was indeed delicious, made even better by the fact that they could enjoy it in the quiet of their room, wearing nothing but their bathrobes.   
  
Suga got up and sat on Daichi’s lap, his legs dangling beside Daichi's right shin, his torso twisted to face Daichi. He wrapped his arms around Daichi’s neck and rest his forehead on Daichi's.   
  
“Thank you for planning this entire weekend,” said Suga. “You’re so sweet... and so handsome... and so _perfect._ You're the best boyfriend ever.” Suga placed a chaste kiss on his lips and flashed him a smile.   
  
It was that smile again. Daichi’s skin crawled with guilt. He couldn’t hold it in much longer. He had to tell Suga.   
  
He kissed the top of Suga’s head and said, “I wouldn’t say that.” He pulled Suga off of his lap and gently pushed him towards the seat beside him.   
  
“Koushi, I… I need to tell you something.”   
  
“What is it?” Suga’s eyebrows furrowed.   
  
“Kou… I, uh…” He leaned forward and dropped his head, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together.   
  
“You can tell me anything. You know this.”   
  
Daichi swallowed down the tears that threatened to spill out. He had no right to be crying. He was the bad guy in this situation, not the victim.   
  
“Koushi, I screwed up.”   
  
“What do you mean?” Suga’s eyes were now filled with worry. “What happened?”   
  
Daichi took a deep breath and bowed his head.   
  
_Just rip the band-aid off._   
  
“I had sex with Kuroo.”   
  
There was silence. Daichi was afraid to look up, but he had to face the consequences. He met Suga’s eyes, and whatever affection was there a second earlier was now completely gone, replaced by something feral and dangerous.   
  
_“What?”_ Suga hissed. “When?”   
  
“Last night.”   
  
Suga got to his feet and started to pace. “Oh, so I can’t come over as soon as you want me to, and then you go and... _fuck Kuroo_?”   
  
“Koushi, it wasn’t like that—”   
  
“What was it like, then?” Suga yelled. “Tell me, is this a regular thing, you fucking your roommate?”   
  
_“NO!”_   
  
_“Then what is it, Daichi?!”_ Angry tears were rolling down Suga’s cheeks and Daichi wanted nothing more than to kiss them away. It hurt so much to know that he was causing them in the first place.   
  
“Koushi, I’m sorry!” Daichi tried to catch Suga by the waist to stop his pacing, to look into his eyes and show him how sorry he was, but failed. “I was angry. I got drunk. He got drunk. I swear, I didn’t mean for it to happen! It was—it was an accident!”   
  
Suga finally stopped pacing and whirled around to face Daichi, eyes blazing with anger now. _“An accident?”_ he echoed Daichi’s words with contempt. “So what, you just _accidentally_ plopped down onto Kuroo’s dick and it just shot up your ass? Or was it the other way around?”   
  
“No, I—” Daichi didn’t have the words. He felt stupid, and he was sure he just insulted Suga's intelligence and made things worse by saying “it was an accident.” No, he didn’t mean for it to happen, but it wasn’t _“an accident.”_ Accidents were things that happened without you doing anything deliberately, like slipping on a wet floor and falling flat on your ass. Not like bouncing up and down on your roommate’s lap, his dick up your ass.   
  
“Koushi, I’m sorry,” Daichi fell to his knees, reaching up and wrapping his arms around Suga’s waist.   
  
_“Don’t fucking touch me!”_ Suga shoved his arms away and stepped backward, the disgust clearly plastered on his face. Daichi sank, his thighs resting on his calves, his head hanging low. He tried so hard to swallow down the tears that were forming in his eyes. He had no fucking right to be crying right now. But the look on Suga’s face hit him like a ton of bricks, breaking the dam. Hot tears were streaming down his face, and the best he could do was to put up an effort not to make a sound.   
  
Suga was pacing again, back and forth, his hands tugging at his hair. His eyes were wide and round, tears threatening to fall anytime. His round cheeks were red with rage.   
  
“This entire time,” Suga said slowly, enunciating each word. “I—we’ve been—we’ve _literally_ been fucking _all day,_ and _now_ you tell me that you and Kuroo— _AAAAARGH!_ ” Suga gave out a strangled cry. “Fuck, Daichi! _FUCK!_ ”   
  
Daichi crawled on his hands and knees to where Suga was pacing, catching his robe in his hands and tugging. “Koushi, please,” he sobbed. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I swear to God, I wish it never happened! It meant nothing, Kou, please believe me!”   
  
Suga wretched the robe out of Daichi’s grasp as another strangled cry came out of him, more disgusted than the last.   
  
“Koushi…”   
  
“Get out.”   
  
“Please, Koushi, I lo—”   
  
“Don’t you _dare_ fucking say that you love me right now!” Suga spat. Daichi felt like he had been slashed a thousand times. His body now wracked with sobs that he could no longer contain. He knew he had no right to say that he was hurting, because the pain he felt was nothing to the pain he caused the one person he swore he’d never hurt.   
  
All because of one single mistake.   
  
_“Koushi, please…”_   
  
“Get out,” Suga repeated, enunciating each word with force. “I swear to God, Sawamura, get the fuck out or I’m calling security.”   
  
Daichi slowly got to his feet. He looked at the ashen-haired man before him, but the love of his life wasn’t there. He had been replaced by an angry man with an ice-cold glare. Daichi didn’t know this man, didn’t know how to deal with him. He didn’t know how to bring his Suga back.   
  
Or if he even could.   
  
Daichi got dressed in the bathroom as quickly as he could. Suga wasn’t in the room anymore when he was done. He wanted to look for him, but figured the best course of action was just to do as Suga said.   
  
So Daichi slipped quietly out of the hotel and into the busy Tokyo night.

*****

Kuroo had tried to distract himself all day. He cleaned the house, cooked, and watched TV. He went to the gym and ran and lifted and benched. He ran a bath and sank himself into the cold, soapy water. Nothing helped.   
  
He couldn’t stop thinking about Daichi. About how Daichi felt so good last night.   
  
And then he couldn’t stop thinking about Suga. About how Daichi said Suga’s name last night. About how Suga looked and touched Daichi this morning.   
  
And then his thoughts drifted to Akaashi.   
  
To be fair to Kuroo, he really _really_ liked Akaashi. He loved Akaashi. Loved that half-lidded, poker-faced look he always wore, as if he had not a care in the world, when in reality he felt so much. Akaashi was incredibly passionate, and Kuroo loved him.   
  
It was clear that Akaashi loved him too. Kuroo didn't doubt it one bit. Akaashi told him — _showed him —_ every single day. Akaashi took good care of him and worshipped him.   
  
The problem was that Akaashi was _in love_ with Kuroo. And Kuroo realized that while he loved Akaashi, he wasn’t in love with the beautiful man.   
  
He thought Daichi was nothing but a little crush, but last night just confirmed that it wasn’t.   
  
Kuroo wasn’t being fair to Akaashi. And he was really starting to hate himself for it.   
  
He got out of the bath and dressed himself. As he was stepping out of the bathroom, he heard the front door open and close violently.   
  
“Daichi?” Kuroo asked, surprised. Relief washed over him, thanking the gods for his decision to get dressed before getting out of the bathroom. The more clothes around Daichi, the better. Especially this was looking dangerously to be similar to how last night's events started out.   
  
“What happened to your long weekend?”   
  
“I can’t talk to you right now,” Daichi snapped. He was headed straight for the alcohol stash again.   
  
Kuroo followed his roommate. He reached up and slammed the cabinets shut right before Daichi could slink his arms into them to grab a bottle. Kuroo thanked the gods again, this time for the gift of height. He was glad he was much taller than Daichi, or else he wouldn’t have been able to pull that off.   
  
“Fuck you!” Daichi yelled.   
  
“What the fucking hell, Sawamura?” Kuroo demanded. “The fuck did I do?”   
  
“I wish this never happened!”   
  
“What are you talking about?” Kuroo asked. He matched Daichi’s sharp tone, but his insides were squirming. He knew the answer, deep in his gut, but somehow he needed to hear it straight from Daichi’s mouth.   
  
_“This.”_ Daichi looked up at him and stared at him straight in the eye. “Us fucking. _It never happened ._ ”   
  
Kuroo felt like his knees were going to give out from the pain, but he managed to keep himself up by gripping the kitchen counter, still looking straight at Daichi.   
  
And then Daichi let go of his gaze. Kuroo watched as Daichi’s shoulders slackened. He pulled a chair and threw himself on it, laying his torso flat on the dining table.   
  
“I told him,” Daichi said softly, his face against the tabletop. “I told Suga what happened.”   
  
“Why?” Kuroo couldn’t keep the anxiety from his voice.   
  
“I can’t keep secrets from him, Kuroo,” Daichi replied, still in the same soft voice. “I love him too much. He needed to know. And I needed to apologize. It was a mistake.”   
  
_No, it wasn't,_ Kuroo wanted to protest. It was the best thing that had happened to Kuroo. The feeling of Daichi on his fingertips, hot and raw, his heat surrounding him. It was a liberating epiphany. _It was heaven._   
  
But Daichi had just called it a _mistake_. He couldn’t take any more. Kuroo turned on his heel and went inside his room, locking the door before lying spread-eagled on the bed. He didn’t hear any other sound from the other side of the door until he fell asleep.   
  
Kuroo emerged from his bedroom the next day to find the living room in disarray. The coffee table was lying on its side, his favorite ashtray forgotten on the floor. The cushions that normally lay on the couch were thrown about.   
  
Kuroo walked around the rest of the apartment to inspect the damage. The wall right beside the fridge had fissures coming from a weird dented spot, which Kuroo was sure wasn’t there the previous night. He checked the alcohol stash and found that a bottle of vodka was missing.   
  
“Fucking Sawamura,” he muttered under his breath. But he figured Daichi needed time, so Kuroo tidied up the apartment by himself. He clicked his tongue as he picked up the ashtray from the floor, finding a large crack running down the middle. He ran his fingers down the wall where the fissures were, trying to assess the damage and figure out how he could fix it as seamlessly as possible so that their landlord wouldn’t notice and charge it against their deposit.   
  
He stopped in front of Daichi’s door. He didn’t want to enter or ask Daichi to come out. He just wanted to check for some sign of life. He opted to press his ear against the door, straining to decipher the sounds that were entering his ear. A second later, he heard the unmistakable sound of a strangled, muffled sob.   
  
Kuroo peeled himself away from the door. He wanted to take Daichi into his arms, brush his tears away, tell him that everything would be alright.   
  
Daichi’s misery gnawed at Kuroo. He wanted to make Daichi happy. He _knew_ he could make Daichi happy.   
  
Not like Suga. Suga was making the beautiful, perfect Daichi miserable.   
  
He knocked softly on the door. “Daichi?”   
  
No response.   
  
He decided to give Daichi some time.

*****

Five hours was enough fucking time.   
  
Kuroo was standing outside Daichi’s door, arms folded across his chest. The man still hadn’t emerged from the bedroom, hadn’t eaten anything or drank anything (except maybe the vodka he had clearly taken from their supply) in the last twelve hours.   
  
Kuroo narrowed his eyes at the door, contemplating his options. He decided to try the nice approach first.   
  
He knocked three times. “Daichi?”   
  
Silence.   
  
“Daichi, there’s food out here. Come on, you haven’t eaten all day.”   
  
Silence.   
  
Kuroo clicked his tongue. Nice wasn’t working. He’d have to drag Daichi out of the room. He reached for the doorknob and turned.   
  
It was locked. Of course.   
  
He knocked more urgently. “Daichi! Open the door, please!”   
  
Silence.   
  
No more Mr. Nice Kuroo.   
  
“Open the fucking door, Sawamura!”   
  
The sound of glass breaking against the door was the response he got.   
  
Kuroo slapped his palm on the door. “Open this door right now!”   
  
He heard Daichi’s faint voice say, “Leave me alone,” but there was no bite in his tone. Kuroo peered at the doorknob, where the latch met the door frame. Kuroo nodded to himself before hollering,   
  
“I swear to fucking god, Sawamura, if you don’t open the door at the count of three, I’m kicking it down!”   
  
He paused for a second before banging his fist on the door again.   
  
“One!”   
  
He counted to three quickly under his breath, and then pounded on the door again.   
  
“Two!”   
  
He got to another “two” under his breath before the door opened.   
  
Daichi was… well, to describe his state as a “mess” was the understatement of the century. He was wearing the same clothes from when he came home last night. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy. His lips were dry and cracked, a bright red spot appearing on a particularly large patch of cracked skin. His shirt was wet in random patches, and the round collar was stretched beyond repair. His right hand was swollen and there was blood on his knuckles. Kuroo stole a glance into the room and saw the closet door open. Clothes littered the floor. The bed was bare, its linens forming part of the clutter on the floor.   
  
“Fuck, Daichi,” Kuroo breathed. He wrapped an arm around Daichi’s broad shoulders and slowly directed his body toward the couch. Surprisingly, he was not met with any resistance. He directed Daichi to sit on the couch and then made a mad dash across the apartment to get a bottle of water and return to the couch.   
  
“Here,” he handed the water to Daichi, who was staring right in front of him, into nothingness. He didn’t take the bottle.   
  
“You need to drink.” Kuroo pressed the bottle into Daichi’s hand, but he wouldn’t budge.   
  
“I’m gonna shove this bottle down your throat if you don’t drink some fucking water right now,” Kuroo threatened. Daichi’s eyes moved to glance at Kuroo before taking the bottle from his hand and drinking one gulp and shoving the bottle back to him.   
  
Kuroo had seen Daichi when he was in the middle of his fights with Suga. The man really let himself go, refused to pick himself up until they made up. But this was the worst that Kuroo had seen him by far.   
  
Kuroo knelt in front of him, forcing the man to look at his face. But Daichi turned his head towards the direction of the front door.   
  
“Daichi,” Kuroo started, “You’re making yourself miserable.”   
  
Kuroo drew in a breath. “Every time you and Suga fight, you throw yourself into some weird frenzy. You get drunk out of your mind. You almost get hit by cars. You pick fights with randos on the street. You punch the walls.”   
  
“What’s your point?” Daichi said dully, still refusing to look at him.   
  
“You aren’t happy.”   
  
“No shit, Sherlock,” scoffed Daichi.   
  
“You aren’t happy _with Suga_ ,” clarified Kuroo.   
  
Daichi turned his head to look at him. There was nothing but emptiness in his eyes, and Kuroo’s heart clenched. It was devastating to see Daichi like this. This wasn’t his Daichi.   
  
“Leave him,” said Kuroo, his voice almost a whisper.   
  
Daichi blinked at Kuroo. He pressed on.   
  
“I can make you happy, Daichi. I can take care of you.” Kuroo felt his heart thundering in his chest, his pulse quickening. “If you were with me, this—” Kuroo took Daichi’s swollen, bloodied hand into both of his tenderly, fighting the urge to press his lips against the swollen, tender flesh “—this would never happen.”   
  
Kuroo wasn’t sure how he expected Daichi to react. Certainly not that Daichi would snatch his hand away, wearing a disgusted look on his face, eyes narrowing dangerously at Kuroo.   
  
“What in the _fuck_ are you talking about, Kuroo?”   
  
It was now or never.   
  
“Daichi,” Kuroo began, his voice firm and steady, as if this were the easiest thing in the world, when in reality it was the most terrifying thing he had ever done in his life.   
  
“I love you. I’ve been in love with you for a while. And I know you. And I know that I can make you happy. Happier than you’ve ever been in your life. Happier than how you are now with Suga.”   
  
Daichi’s expression didn’t change, but he remained silent for what felt to Kuroo like forever.   
  
Finally Daichi said, “You have a boyfriend.”   
  
Kuroo leaned forward eagerly and placed his hands on Daichi’s knees. “That’s the thing, Dai! That’s how I know! I know I’m not happy with Akaashi. And I know you’re the same with Suga.”   
  
Daichi pushed Kuroo away and stood, drawing himself to his full height, eyes locked on Kuroo. Kuroo stood as well, raising his hand to cup Daichi’s face.   
  
_“You motherfucking piece of shit!”_   
  
Daichi’s fist came out of nowhere and connected squarely with Kuroo’s cheek. The blow winded him and knocked him off balance, sending him several steps backward. The taste of metal filled his mouth.   
  
“The sex was one thing, but _this_? How dare you? _How dare you?!_ ” Daichi spat at him.   
  
Daichi snapped his arm backward, and Kuroo braced himself for another blow. But it never came.   
  
“How dare you fucking say that? That I’m not happy with Suga? What the fuck, Kuroo! I thought you were my friend!”   
  
“But you aren’t! Look at you!”   
  
“I’m miserable not because I’m _with_ Suga, you fucking idiot!” Daichi bellowed. Kuroo felt the vibrations of Daichi’s voice throughout his body. “I’m miserable _because I’m not with him!_ I’m miserable because I’ve lost him forever, just because I got drunk!”   
  
Daichi dragged a hand through his hair and down his face, shaking his head.   
  
“Fuck, Kuroo. If you’re so unhappy with Akaashi, that’s your shit. But don’t fucking drag me into it.”   
  
Daichi’s eyes were lit with fury when he finally looked straight at Kuroo.   
  
“I’m nothing like you,” Daichi said through clenched teeth. “You’re nothing but a selfish prick.”   
  
Daichi turned and strode into his bedroom. Despite himself, Kuroo followed and stopped at the doorway of Daichi’s room. Daichi was throwing the clothes that were scattered on his floor into an overnight bag. He was leaving, and Kuroo could do nothing to stop him.   
  
Daichi zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He pushed past Kuroo at the door and kept on walking, until he got to the front door.   
  
Kuroo watched as Daichi walked right out of his apartment.   
  
And maybe out of his life.   
  
Kuroo dropped to his knees, all energy leaving his body instantly. He had fucked up. He regretted everything. Getting drunk with Daichi. Having sex with him. Confessing to him. Telling him to leave Suga for him. That last part seemed like such a good idea a few minutes ago. He really managed to convince himself that Daichi would gladly leave Suga for him.   
  
Fuck, maybe Kuroo really _was_ nothing but a selfish prick.

*****

“Suga.”   
  
Kuroo found him just in time. Kuroo had spotted Suga just as the shorter man was approaching the train station.   
  
“What the fuck? Are you stalking me?” Suga demanded. His eyes held nothing but hate as he looked up at Kuroo, and Kuroo couldn’t blame him.   
  
“Suga, hear me out—”   
  
“I don’t have to listen to you.” Suga stepped to the side, but Kuroo matched him easily. Kuroo didn’t spend years as a middle blocker for nothing.   
  
“Suga, please. It’s important.”   
  
“Leave me the fuck alone.”   
  
“Suga, he’s fucking miserable!” Kuroo’s voice was rising, but he didn’t care. This was urgent and he needed Suga to pay attention. “He’s devastated! He literally had blood on his hands!”   
  
Suga didn’t say anything, but Kuroo saw his hand loosen its grip on the strap of his backpack. The expression on his face softened.   
  
“He thrashed everything in his room. And a little bit of the rest of the apartment,” Kuroo added the last part, remembering the dent on the kitchen wall. “He didn’t eat anything the entire day.”   
  
“So?” Suga said. Kuroo heard how he tried and failed to inject bite into his tone.   
  
“Suga, he apologized.”   
  
_“Oh, wooow!”_ Suga exclaimed. There it was, the bite. “Daichi said the _magic words_. I’m supposed to forget everything and _forgive him_ now!”   
  
“If it were me, I’d forgive him in a heartbeat,” Kuroo said, his voice more steady than ever.   
  
“You go be his boyfriend then,” Suga spat, finally managing to sidestep Kuroo and walk on towards the station.   
  
“He won’t have me,” Kuroo called out after Suga. Suga stopped for a second then turned on his heel to face Kuroo.   
  
_“What?”_   
  
“I tried,” Kuroo said. He heard his regret mixed in with his voice. “I told him everything. And he won’t have me.”   
  
The fury and hatred were back in Suga’s eyes, blazing even more than before. The hand that was holding the strap of his backpack was now positively a fist.   
  
_“What the fuck?”_ Suga hissed.   
  
“Before you punch me,” Kuroo began, “just please hear me out.”   
  
Kuroo could practically see the gears in Suga’s mind turning. “You have thirty seconds.”   
  
Kuroo inhaled. “Okay, this is the SparkNotes version. We fucked. I realized that I really was in love with him, though I’d been trying to shove it down all these years. Last night he came home angry, and this morning he was miserable like I’ve never seen him before, like, _jesus fucking christ_ he was a zombie. I knelt in front of him and I said you obviously weren’t making him happy. And I said I could do it if he’d have me. And I told him to leave you.”   
  
Suga’s eyes widened and Kuroo quickly got to the end of his story.   
  
“And then he punched me. Right here.” Kuroo turned his head to show Suga the bruise on his cheek.   
  
Suga fisted his hair and tugged. His eyes were narrowed at Kuroo.   
  
“You came here to tell me that you tried to get Daichi to _break up with me?_ ” Suga asked. “I can’t _even_ with you, Kuroo! Fuck!”   
  
“He doesn’t want me!” Kuroo shouted. He was making a scene, but he didn’t care. He needed to make this right.   
  
He needed to make Daichi happy.   
  
“Weren’t you listening to what I just said? He doesn’t want me! He wants you!”   
  
Suga was silent, his chest heaving. Kuroo contemplated for a second if he should divulge the information, and then decided he should. Maybe it would help.   
  
“I’m sure he didn’t tell you this,” Kuroo said, lowering his voice. “But he said your name when we did it.”   
  
It didn’t help, because Suga was now the one making a scene.   
  
_“I don’t give a shit about what he said when he fucked you! He fucking CHEATED on me!”_   
  
“We’re taking away very different things from this experience,” Kuroo said exasperatedly.   
  
“ _AAARGH!!!!_ Seriously, what the fuck do you want, Kuroo?” Suga shoved him, and Kuroo stumbled backward a few steps. Who knew Suga was that strong? “First you fuck my boyfriend, and then you try to screw me over, and now you’re rubbing it in my fucking face?”   
  
“That’s not what I’m trying to do here, Suga!” Kuroo stepped forward again, trying to regain his composure. “I’m trying to tell you that you need to forgive him. That you’re such a part of him that even if he’s with someone else, he can only think of you. That he is insanely head over heels disgustingly in love with you.”   
  
Suga’s chest was still heaving with anger, but his body began to slacken.   
  
“He is literally falling apart, losing his mind without you,” Kuroo said softly. He couldn’t bring himself to sound more steady than that. The pain was almost unbearable. He sighed, and continued.   
  
“He regrets everything. So just forgive him already.”   
  
Kuroo watched as Suga swallowed and flicked away a tear. Did Kuroo do it? Did he get through to Suga?   
  
“I don’t know if I can do that, Kuroo,” Suga said in a flat tone.   
  
Kuroo watched as Suga turned on his heel and walked away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate hurting Daichi and Suga so so much, and that's probably why I struggled with this one (and why it's coming in very late).
> 
> Another reason I struggled was that this is my first fic with, er, steamy scenes. I've always wanted to write smut and have always admired those who do it beautifully because I knew I could never do it. This is my first attempt at remotely trying something like this. So I would really really love feedback on that aspect.
> 
> As always, please leave kudos and comments! They warm my DaiSuga heart. <3


	2. Causatum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Day 5: “Did you ever love me?”

Kuroo was an excellent student. He had always loved science, and he was fucking good at it. He was pretty good at math too. Maybe his English needed some work, but it wasn’t horrible. He had always spent his days helping his friends with their science homework, even in elementary school. When he started playing volleyball in middle school, he tutored the other boys on the team. He was smart.   
  
He chose to stay in Tokyo for college. He probably didn’t really need to leave home, the university being a couple of train rides away. He had some explaining to do to his family as to why he wanted to live nearer the campus, why he would rather spend on housing just to take a few steps to school, instead of free lodging in exchange for a daily commute that would probably take twenty minutes. But in the end, they relented. Kuroo was a responsible kid. He had been his entire life, and his parents knew he wouldn’t spend his college days partying the nights away without supervision.   
  
He was intelligent. He was responsible. He was a good person.   
  
So why did he feel like he was the most horrible person in the world?   
  
He sat up, stretching his neck, kneading the muscles. He had taken to sleeping on the couch since last week when he suddenly found himself living alone in a two-bedroom flat. Sure, it wasn’t huge, but it felt so much larger to Kuroo now.

So much emptier.

Sleeping on the couch, which by Kuroo’s estimations was right smack in the middle of the apartment’s floor area, felt like a good idea. It felt like he was filling up the vast, empty space of the apartment by situating himself in the middle, with the four walls equidistant from him. It felt better than staying in his bedroom, his bed pressed into the far wall, the emptiness stretching out for miles on the other three sides surrounding him.

Sleeping on the couch felt like a good idea at the time. Now, it just felt like a stiff neck, maybe even an injury waiting to happen.

Living alone felt weird. He had never really been alone in his life. He was surrounded by family and friends throughout his early years. But when he found out that Daichi was coming to study in Tokyo, he agreed to share an apartment with his former rival-slash-friend. They had been living together in this shitty apartment for the past eighteen months. And now, all of a sudden, Kuroo was alone. It felt weird.

It had been a week of radio silence from both Daichi and Suga. Granted, he and Suga weren’t as close, but they were still friends. 

Or maybe not anymore.

Kuroo heard his phone ringing and he looked around, trying to figure out where it was under the mess of half-eaten bags of chips and cans of beer on the floor. 

“Hello?” he answered without looking at the screen.

_“Hey,”_ came Akaashi’s soft voice. _“I brought you breakfast.”_

“Huh?”

_“I’m outside.”_

“Oh! Sorry. Hang on.”

Kuroo jumped up from the couch and made his way to the front door, where Akaashi was waiting on the other side with breakfast and a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi greeted Kuroo with a tiny bow, dipping his head slightly. “Were you studying until late last night?” he asked as he toed off his shoes.

“Uh, yeah, I was cramming a paper,” Kuroo admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. Akaashi followed Kuroo into the living space.

It wasn’t really much a “living space” as much as it was a pigstye. It seemed like Kuroo was living off of the couch. There were bags of chips and cans of beer discarded haphazardly on the floor. There was a blanket on the couch, half draped over the backrest and half bunched up on the cushions. A pillow lay on one of the armrests. The coffee table was littered with random sheets of paper, obscuring the laptop and the ashtray from Akaashi’s view. It was an unusual sight. Even if Kuroo was really busy with school, Akaashi had never before seen the apartment in this state.

Akaashi realized he had been staring at the living room and hadn’t even handed Kuroo the breakfast he brought over. 

“Sorry,” he said, handing Kuroo the cup of coffee and the paper bag. “This is for you.”

“Thank you, Keiji,” Kuroo said, sounding relieved. Akaashi flashed him a smile before stretching up to place a peck on his lips.

“Why don’t you go eat while I clean up here?” Akaashi offered.

“Oh no, please—” Kuroo started, but Akaashi cut him off.

“No, please, Kuroo-san, I insist,” Akaashi pressed on, his voice still gentle. Kuroo sighed and gave him a small smile before settling down on the dining table.

They stayed there, each minding his own business, for a long while. Akaashi could hear Kuroo taking big bites, chewing slowly, and sipping even slower. For his part, Akaashi threw out the empty food containers and swept the floor. He also emptied the ashtray and wiped down the coffee table before replacing Kuroo’s laptop and his homework neatly on top. When he was done, Akaashi sat at the dining table opposite his boyfriend.

Kuroo looked exhausted. The usual smirk that lived on his lips was gone and was replaced by a thin straight line. His skin was almost grey, devoid of all life. His eyes were decorated with dark bags, the usual glint in them dulled by something Akaashi couldn’t quite put his finger on. Burn out, maybe? But it seemed to run deeper.

Similar to the dirty apartment, this was a look that Akaashi had never before seen on Kuroo. But Akaashi knew his boyfriend enough to know that shoving his way in through the door would only cause Kuroo to raise his guard up even more. They were together for more than a year now. Why couldn’t Kuroo let him in? He couldn’t understand it, but he respected it. He loved Kuroo deeply, and he would wait until Kuroo completely opened up to him.

“Any plans today, Kuroo-san?”

Kuroo shook his head as he lifted the coffee to his lips. He took a long, slow drink before saying, “Just finishing my paper.”

“How do you feel about finishing it at the university cafe?” he flashed Kuroo a sweet smile. A coffee date was harmless. They could just sit together, typing away on their computers, sipping their coffee. Their arms would brush against each other, legs touching, and they would steal smiling glances at each other.

“I’m sorry, Keiji. I think I’m better off staying here. I’ve got the rhythm down.”

“Oh.” Akaashi’s heart sank, but he hoped his tone didn’t betray him. This was the third time this week that Kuroo had said no.

“Um, I can just stay and hang out here with you,” Akaashi offered. 

“You’ll only get bored here,” said Kuroo.

“No, I’ll be fine. I can do my homework here too,” said Akaashi. He was no stranger to settling down and writing in Kuroo’s apartment. Kuroo would be hunched over the coffee table on the couch, and Akaashi would be right here, where he was sitting at the dining table, working on his own assignments. He could never be bored when he was in Kuroo’s presence. He found inspiration for his work in everything that had to do with Kuroo.

“Uh… okay,” stammered Kuroo.

But Akaashi knew Kuroo and could see through him. And he knew that Kuroo's armor was up today. Something was wrong.

They had known each other since high school. They met in one of the volleyball training camps. Kuroo was a year older than him and he was the captain of the opposing team. Akaashi was instantly impressed by Kuroo's blocks. No matter how he set up the attack to avoid the blockers, Kuroo managed to kill it instantly, without hesitation. It was as if he could read Akaashi’s mind.

Right before a practice match, Akaashi had heard Kuroo’s riveting speech to his team. He marveled at how Kuroo got his teammates pumped with a few carefully chosen words, forming beautiful metaphors. They were like blood, Kuroo had said, flowing through a body, delivering oxygen to the brain, so it could function and attack. At that moment, Akaashi wished he were the other team’s setter, so that he could feel how it was like to have Kuroo talk about him that way.

Akaashi found himself thinking about Kuroo often even after the camp. He regretted not talking to the captain more. He regretted allowing his shyness get the best of him. Kuroo was warm, inviting, and easy to talk to — of course, he didn’t experience it first-hand, but he could tell just by looking at the taller boy.

Akaashi got another chance during another training camp that same school year, where they met again. One night, during that sweet moment of freedom after the practice matches and before dinner when everyone was free to do whatever the hell they wanted, Kuroo invited him to practice with his team. Their setter had retired for the night, Kuroo explained, and they needed one. Akaashi gladly obliged. By the time they were all hungry for dinner, he and Kuroo had exchanged numbers.

The texting was innocent at first. Friendly. Then it got flirty. By the end of that school year, Akaashi was convinced Kuroo liked him. 

That was fine with Akaashi. He liked Kuroo too. A lot.

Kuroo told him that he was staying in Tokyo for college. He recalled responding with, “That’s awesome!” Because it truly was. Having Kuroo around, and not hundreds of miles away, was comforting to Akaashi. Although they weren’t anything yet aside from flirty text mates, the idea of distance between them made him anxious.

Akaashi had offered to help Kuroo and Daichi move into their apartment. There were four of them that day — Daichi and his boyfriend, Suga, and Kuroo and him. Akaashi had also met Daichi and Suga in a volleyball training camp, although they weren’t exactly friends. He just knew that Daichi was the captain of their team and that Suga was the vice-captain, and that they had been dating since their first year in high school.

When everything was nicely moved in, Kuroo offered to walk Akaashi home. He jumped at the chance to be with Kuroo alone, and it proved to be a worthy investment, because Kuroo asked him if he wanted to be his boyfriend. And of course, Akaashi said yes.

Akaashi ended up going to the same university as Kuroo. He didn’t move into Kuroo’s apartment — there was no room for him there anyway, it being a shoebox occupied by two large men — but he was there a lot. He and Kuroo stayed on the couch, watching TV or eating dinner, while Daichi was holed up in his bedroom. On the occasions he’d come out, he would be holding his phone up to his face, sometimes flipping the screen towards their direction so they could say hi to Suga.

That was the thing that was different now. Well, one of the things. There was no Daichi in the apartment.

The other thing was that while Akaashi still very much wanted to be Kuroo’s boyfriend, he felt like Kuroo didn’t want to be his anymore.

“On second thought,” Akaashi began, “I think I’ll work at home today.” Kuroo, who had his head tilted back as he drank the last of the coffee, gulped and looked straight at him. Akaashi couldn’t read the expression on his face. It was a weird concoction of relief, guilt, and… shame? 

“You don’t have to leave right now,” Kuroo said softly, reaching for Akaashi’s hand. Akaashi allowed the contact, looking at the way Kuroo’s large hand enveloped his. It looked familiar, but the feeling it brought him wasn’t. It was a different feeling.

Kuroo _felt_ different.

“That’s alright, Kuroo-san,” said Akaashi in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. “This is a busy time for both of us.” He wasn’t lying. The semester was almost ending, and everyone was on catch-up mode, including the professors. Akaashi himself was just about to experience his first college hell week.

He got to his feet, pulling Kuroo with him, and wrapped his arms around Kuroo’s waist. He smelled of stale cigarette smoke and sweat laced with a soft powdery scent. He smelled like Kuroo, and Akaashi head swam in it, the scent filling his senses, clutching at his heart.

When he pulled away, he saw Kuroo smiling softly down at him. “Thank you, Keiji,” he said in a soft voice, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on Akaashi’s lips.

Now, _that_ felt familiar. Akaashi’s heart fluttered, and at that moment, he forgot all his worries. In that split second of contact, all that mattered was him and Kuroo and their love.

“I’ll go ahead, Kuroo-san,” said Akaashi after giving Kuroo a quick tight hug.

“Thank you for breakfast,” Kuroo replied, walking him to the door. Kuroo opened the door as Akaashi pulled his shoes back onto his feet.

“Go write more stories about me,” Kuroo teased. Akaashi ignored the absence of the glint in his eye that usually accompanied his teasing tone.

“I love you,” Akaashi smiled.

Kuroo quickly pulled him into another tight hug, and then gently pressed into the small of his back, ushering him out the door. He heard the door immediately shut behind him.

*****

Kuroo was a fucking asshole.   
  
His boyfriend had just said “I love you,” and he responded by literally pushing him out the door.   
  
_Who the fuck did that?_   
  
Kuroo closed one eye and peered into the peephole, checking to see if Akaashi was gone, before tearing his hair out with a loud groan.   
  
“Fucking fuck,” he muttered. Kuroo needed to get his shit together. Starting with his school work.   
  
He was knee-deep into his paper, an hour later, when his phone rang. A familiar face smiled up at him from the screen.   
  
_Could it be?_   
  
“Daichi?” he answered hurriedly.   
  
_“Uh, no, sorry,”_ came a voice Kuroo didn’t recognize. _“This is Iwaizumi Hajime. We met before, remember?”_   
  
Kuroo did remember. There was one night that they went clubbing, him and Daichi, with Akaashi and Suga, and the four of them met up with another couple, Iwaizumi and his boyfriend, Oikawa. In high school, Daichi and Suga’s team had defeated Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s for a spot at the national volleyball tournament, where in turn, Daichi and Suga’s team faced off against Kuroo’s. Iwaizumi was a student in the same university as them, Daichi had explained. Oikawa, on the other hand, went to school in Sendai with Suga, and they lived together.   
  
“Yes, Iwaizumi-san, of course I remember,” Kuroo said. “Um, may I ask why you’re calling me from Daichi’s phone, though?”   
  
_“I apologize,”_ replied Iwaizumi. _“I just figured you’d pick up if you knew who was calling as opposed to an unknown number.”_   
  
_I only picked up because I thought it was Daichi,_ Kuroo thought, but he didn’t say it out loud.   
  
“That’s alright,” Kuroo said instead. “What can I do for you, Iwaizumi-san?”   
  
_“I was hoping I could swing by to pick up the rest of Sawamura’s things.”_   
  
Of course. Daichi had left in such a hurry and hadn’t come back for the rest of his stuff. Stuff that Kuroo didn’t dare touch. Daichi’s room was in the same state as he had left it, thrashed and messy. Kuroo couldn’t bring himself to even pick up the discarded sheets from the floor.   
  
“Yeah, sure,” Kuroo said, hoping he sounded nonchalant. “Just let me know when so I can wait for you here.”   
  
_“I can be there in like, fifteen minutes?”_ Iwaizumi said. _“Is that okay?”_   
  
“That’s fine,” replied Kuroo. “I’ll see you then.”   
  
Fifteen minutes.   
  
Daichi had decided to extricate himself completely from Kuroo’s life, and it was happening in fifteen minutes. And Daichi didn’t even have the balls to do it himself. He was sending an emissary to do it.   
  
Kuroo padded to the kitchen and grabbed a can of beer, the frothy liquid hissing violently as he popped the tab open. He took a large swig as he shut the fridge door, and immediately, his eyes fell on the dent on the wall. He hadn’t confirmed his suspicions before Daichi left, but he was 99.9% sure that Daichi had punched the wall so hard, leaving a dent. Kuroo supposed he should be happy that Daichi had opted for the wall instead of the fridge itself. The damage to the latter would be more difficult to explain to their landlord, not to mention more expensive to repair.   
  
The beer did nothing to calm Kuroo’s nerves. He squirmed anxiously on the couch, his ears perked up and waiting for the sound of the doorbell that was due at any time.   
  
It felt like an hour, but the bell finally rang. Kuroo rushed to the door and opened it for Iwaizumi.   
  
“Kuroo-san,” Iwaizumi greeted, giving a small bow.   
  
“Iwaizumi-san,” Kuroo returned the gesture. He waited as Iwaizumi toed off his shoes, and then gestured for the visitor to follow him. He stopped at the entrance of the room that used to be Daichi’s, and that would soon be just an empty space in his apartment.   
  
Just like the Daichi-shaped hole in Kuroo’s life.   
  
“Thanks,” Iwaizumi said, giving a curt nod and entering the room. Kuroo was glad that he understood. Iwaizumi was going to have to do this by himself. Kuroo watched as Daichi’s new roommate picked up the random articles on Daichi’s dresser, stuffing them inside a large duffel bag. It was as if Daichi had sent Iwaizumi to pick up the pieces of his life that he had left behind, forcing them in a bag, in an effort to rebuild it.   
  
Daichi deserved to do that. Rebuild his life. And as much as it pained Kuroo to admit it, even to himself, he knew that the best way to enable Daichi to do that was to stay the fuck away from the man he had unwittingly fallen for and then pushed away.   
  
Kuroo pulled himself away from the doorway and went back to the kitchen. “Would you like a beer?” he called out.   
  
“Uh, yeah, sure,” Iwaizumi called back.   
  
Kuroo grabbed another beer can from the bridge, and then returned to the doorway. “Here,” he tossed the can to Iwaizumi, who deftly caught it with a ‘thanks’.   
  
“I, uh, I’m gonna be out here. I mean, here on the couch,” Kuroo stammered. “Just, uh… just holler if you need anything.”   
  
“Thanks, Kuroo-san.”   
  
Kuroo resumed his position on the couch and tried to focus his energies on his work, but he was very acutely aware of the man packing up the rest of Daichi’s life. It felt like Iwaizumi was in there forever. When Iwaizumi finally emerged, the duffel bag was full to bursting, and he was holding the empty, crushed beer can in his hand.   
  
“Trash?” Iwaizumi asked, holding the can up a little higher.   
  
Kuroo got up and strode to Iwaizumi. He took the can from the other man’s hand and crossed the room to the kitchen, where he opened the cabinet under the sink and tossed the can in the trash.   
  
He turned back to Iwaizumi, who was testing the weight of the duffel bag, shifting it from the right hand and then to the left. Kuroo walked over and leaned on the back of the couch, crossing his arms in front of his chest.   
  
“Got everything?” Kuroo confirmed.   
  
Iwaizumi nodded. “Thanks again,” he said gently. “And… uh... I’m sorry this was weird,” he added sheepishly.   
  
Kuroo chuckled softly. “I think that’s more my fault than yours, all things considered,” he said. And then, after a pause, he looked intently at Iwaizumi.   
  
“How is he?”   
  
Iwaizumi sighed. “He’s been better.”   
  
Kuroo gave a curt nod.   
  
“Kuroo-san,” Iwaizumi started, stepping towards Kuroo. “I can’t imagine this is easy on either of you. But you have Akaashi-san and Sawamura has Suga. You both need to focus on mending those relationships.”   
  
Kuroo nodded again, slowly this time, processing Iwaizumi’s words.   
  
“I’m sorry if I overstepped just now,” Iwaizumi said suddenly.   
  
“No, not at all,” Kuroo reassured him. “Thank you, really.”   
  
Iwaizumi clapped a hand to Kuroo’s shoulder and then headed straight for the front door, his biceps straining with the weight of the duffle bag. Kuroo watched him from his spot in the living room.   
  
The moment Iwaizumi walked out of Kuroo’s apartment was the moment that Daichi Sawamura was gone completely from his life.   
  
Kuroo swallowed, letting his arms drop uselessly to his sides. He knew Iwaizumi was right. He needed to focus on mending his relationship with Akaashi.   
  
There was only one way to do that. 

*****

Akaashi stuffed his hands in his coat, partly to keep them warm, and partly to keep them from shaking. He was a block away from Kuroo’s apartment.   
  
The last two weeks went by excruciatingly slowly. The last time Akaashi actually saw Kuroo in the flesh was that day he had brought him breakfast. That day that Kuroo had declined a coffee date with him, yet again.   
  
That day that Kuroo had literally pushed him away when he said “I love you”.   
  
Akaashi chalked it up to stress. Kuroo was obviously stressing over his school requirements at the time. He didn’t literally push Akaashi away at the exact time that Akaashi said those words. It just… happened. A coincidence. Yes, that was it.   
  
Kuroo had been busy these past two weeks. Akaashi was busy too, and so he didn’t push Kuroo for dates. They talked on the phone every day, though, and Akaashi was comforted by that.   
  
Today, Kuroo called Akaashi up to say that he was finally done with all his schoolwork. And that he had something important to discuss. Maybe Akaashi would like to come over? And Akaashi instantly said yes.   
  
Akaashi had a feeling that he knew what was so important.   
  
He rang the doorbell of Kuroo’s apartment. A few seconds later, Kuroo opened the door. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. The warm glint in the taller man’s eyes was still missing. After weeks of ruminating, replaying every moment with Kuroo, Akaashi had a feeling he finally knew where it had gone.   
  
Kuroo motioned for Akaashi to come in. He toed his shoes off and followed Kuroo into the living room wordlessly.   
  
“Tea?” Kuroo offered.   
  
“No, thank you,” said Akaashi, shaking his head.   
  
“Can I get you anything?” asked Kuroo. “Water? Something stronger?”   
  
If there wasn’t so much tension in the air, Akaashi could have laughed out loud. Kuroo was very obviously stalling, and he was doing a bad job of it.   
  
“I’m fine, Kuroo-san,” said Akaashi, smiling at Kuroo to show him that he was indeed fine.   
  
Akaashi could see the hesitation in Kuroo’s eyes, so he decided to relieve a little bit of Kuroo’s misery by just diving right in.   
  
“You said you had something important to discuss?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.   
  
“Right,” Kuroo breathed. “I think we should sit.” Kuroo sat on the couch and Akaashi followed suit, but maintained a safe distance. It felt weird. He hadn't sat with Kuroo on this couch like this in so long. He was used to automatically sidling up to Kuroo, some part of their bodies touching. This distance now, no more than a foot apart, felt like miles.   
  
The tension in the air was so thick now. Akaashi felt like he couldn’t breathe, like the air was weighing him down. His heart was getting heavier too, more and more as every second passed by without a word being spoken between them and Kuroo.   
  
“Kuroo-san?” Akaashi asked tentatively, twisting to face Kuroo. Kuroo faced him as well. He looked straight at Kuroo, hoping to convey his true emotions with his eyes.   
  
He didn’t want this. He wanted to end this conversation even before it began. He wanted to go on pretending that everything was fine, because pretending meant that this beautiful man — whom he had always looked up to, admired, loved and worshipped — would still be his. Pretending meant that he could feel Kuroo beside him, intertwine their fingers, run his lips down his neck, feel his heat inside him.   
  
But pretending meant that Kuroo would be miserable. He would be until they could finally stop the charade.   
  
“Keiji…” Kuroo whispered, “I…”   
  
And then Kuroo looked away, as if meeting Akaashi’s eyes was too hurtful.   
  
Akaashi loved Kuroo. And this was the only way he knew how to make Kuroo happy.   
  
“You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?” Akaashi managed to keep his voice steady. He wasn’t crying — not yet, anyway.   
  
“What?” Kuroo’s head whipped around so fast to face Akaashi.   
  
Akaashi scoffed and managed a small, sad smile. “I may not be a chemistry major, but I’m not stupid,” he said.   
  
It was Kuroo’s turn to scoff. “No, you’re not. You’re perfect.”   
  
He had no response to that. At least, nothing he could say to Kuroo out loud without biting his head off. That was not the route Akaashi was going to go.   
  
“What happened, Tetsurou?” he asked after a long pause. He saw Kuroo wince at the use of his given name, reserved for the most intimate moments, the moments no one else knew but the two of them, the moments Akaashi would later struggle with all of his being to forget.   
  
Kuroo took forever to respond.   
  
“I slept with Daichi,” he finally admitted.   
  
Akaashi had figured as much already, but hearing the words straight out of Kuroo’s mouth was a punch to the gut. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, praying for the strength to go on.   
  
“I’m sorry, Keiji, I truly am,” he heard Kuroo say. He couldn’t open his eyes. His eyelids were a dam that kept the raging tears at bay.   
  
He must have kept still like that forever, because the next thing he heard was Kuroo urging, “Keiji, _please,_ say something.”   
  
Akaashi finally opened his eyes and looked at Kuroo’s hazel ones. There was pain there, but he didn’t know if it was because they were breaking up, or because they were together. He was finding it harder and harder to contain his tears.   
  
“Why?” he asked.   
  
“Keiji,” Kuroo said softly. “I fucked up when I slept with Daichi. But what happened afterward is more fucked up.”   
  
Akaashi waited for Kuroo to continue.   
  
“I realized that I wasn’t being fair to you,” Kuroo continued. “You need someone who will take care of you and love you.”   
  
“You’re the one that I want,” said Akaashi. A last attempt to put up a fight.   
  
“But I can’t do all that,” replied Kuroo.   
  
“Can’t do what? Take care of me? _Love me?_ ” said Akaashi. He knew his tone stung at Kuroo. The man visibly winced, the second time now.   
  
The dam finally broke. Akaashi found his cheeks wet, his throat constricted, his chest heaving. The thick air was filled with the sound of him sniffling, and then sobbing, inhaling sharply. His eyes were so filled with tears that he couldn’t see anything anymore, not even Kuroo.   
  
It took a while for Akaashi to compose himself. Kuroo sat wordlessly the entire time.   
  
“D-Did you ever love me, Tetsurou?” Akaashi finally asked. “This past year that we’ve been together, _did you ever love me?_ ”   
  
Kuroo took his hand, enveloping it in two large, strong, calloused hands. “I _do_ love you, Keiji,” said Kuroo.   
  
Akaashi looked at his hand in Kuroo’s, and then up at his face.   
  
“But you’re not in love with me.”   
  
Kuroo hung his head and let go of Akaashi’s hand.   
  
Akaashi chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Maybe I am stupid, after all. I fooled myself into thinking that you were.”   
  
Another long, palpable silence stretched between them before Akaashi spoke again.   
  
_“So what have I been this entire time?”_   
  
“Keiji, please,” pleaded Kuroo, raising his head and looking at Akaashi. “I loved you. I _still_ love you.”   
  
He wasn’t lying. To be fair to Kuroo, Akaashi could see he wasn’t lying. Kuroo did love him, cared for him.   
  
_“But you’re not in love with me,”_ repeated Akaashi, reading out loud the message that lay behind Kuroo’s beautiful eyes.   
  
He had hit the bull’s eye. Kuroo rested his elbows on his thighs and clasped his hands in front of his face.   
  
“You deserve so much more than what I can give.”   
  
“Because you can’t give it to me?” asked Akaashi. Kuroo didn’t respond.   
  
“Because you want to give it all to Daichi?”   
  
He heard Kuroo choke back a sob.   
  
Akaashi figured he couldn’t wait for a response to that. He didn’t want to wait. What more was there to say? _Kuroo wasn’t in love with him._ It was as simple as that. A child could understand what that meant. Akaashi was certainly smarter than a child.   
  
He got to his feet and promptly bowed to Kuroo, bending at the waist. “Thank you, Kuroo-san,” he said loudly, causing Kuroo to look up at him suddenly.   
  
Akaashi snapped back to his full height, looking at Kuroo one last time. Those hazel eyes. He knew would never forget them, no matter how hard he tried. He could forget everything else, but not those eyes. Not the way they looked at him the first time Kuroo had asked him out. Or the way they looked at him when Kuroo asked to be his boyfriend. Or the way they looked at him, when they kissed, when they made love, when they held hands.   
  
When they were in love.   
  
Or at least, when Akaashi believed Kuroo was in love with him.   
  
“Thank you for everything,” Akaashi said softly before leaving. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My poor poor Akaashi. I truly hope he finds someone who will love him the way he deserves to be loved. :( 
> 
> Thank you for reading this! I hope to get the last chapter up by tomorrow. *fingers crossed* 
> 
> As usual, kudos and comments would be so so soooo appreciated!


	3. Convalescence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my entry for Day 6 of Haikyuu Angst Week 2020: "The worst thing is, even after everything, I still love you."
> 
> Apologies for getting this up here really late, but I hope you still like it!

Fourteen days.  
  
It had been two straight weeks since Daichi stormed out of the apartment he used to share with Kuroo. Two weeks since the utter failure of a weekend getaway with Suga.  
  
Two weeks since the worst night of Daichi’s life.  
  
He had called Suga immediately after leaving the apartment, but Suga was actively canceling his calls. He decided to wait until the next morning before trying again, but Suga never picked up. It went on for the rest of the week. Daichi figured it was a small relief — at least Suga wasn’t hitting the cancel button anymore? More importantly, Suga hadn’t blocked him. That was a window of opportunity that Daichi would take advantage of.  
  
In the second week, Daichi limited the call attempts to once, maybe twice, _okay fine three times max,_ a day. On Wednesday, Daichi called Suga’s number as he was making coffee, fully prepared to go to voicemail.  
  
The ringing suddenly stopped. Daichi’s heart stopped too and he almost knocked over his cup of coffee. Had Suga picked up?  
  
“Koushi?” He pressed the phone hard against his ear.  
  
_“Sawa-chan,”_ came the sharp, cold tone of Oikawa Tooru. He did not sound happy. _“I’m answering Suga-chan’s phone to tell you to please. Stop. Calling.”_  
  
“Oikawa, please,” Daichi pleaded, his voice breaking. “I just need to hear his voice. _Please._ ”  
  
_“He isn’t ready,”_ said Oikawa firmly.  
  
Daichi sighed. This was the longest time that he and Suga hadn’t talked since… well, _ever,_ now that Daichi thought about it.  
  
_“Give him time,”_ came Oikawa’s voice again, but this time more gentle, almost comforting.   
  
Daichi swallowed, taking the morsel of compassion from Suga’s best friend. It wasn’t often that Oikawa handed those out, and especially not to people who hurt the person he protected most fiercely, next to Iwaizumi. Daichi took it as a ray of hope, a sliver of light that poured into the room through the open window of opportunity that Suga had left open.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Daichi said finally.  
  
Oikawa hung up without another word. Daichi slumped over on the counter, this time successfully knocking over the coffee. He lifted his head as he watched the cup topple onto its side, the hot liquid spilling right over the edge of the counter and onto the floor.  
  
“Fuck,” grumbled Daichi.  
  
After that, Daichi decided he would stick to text messages. His first text, though, could have been published as a short novel. He poured his heart out into that little screen, his thumbs fumbling. He was so so sorry, he didn’t mean to hurt Suga, absolutely did not intend for it to happen, but it did anyway. He was an idiot, he didn’t deserve Suga’s forgiveness, but he still hoped that he could be forgiven. Suga was the best thing in his life, he didn’t know how to function without him, how to live, how to _be_. He loved Suga very much, he was his universe, his angel, so if Suga could just please give him a second chance, he swore he would be better.  
  
Daichi got nothing in return.  
  
Iwaizumi smacked the back of his head when he showed his new roommate the message after dinner that night.  
  
“Motherfucker,” Iwaizumi swore at him, “you send that avalanche and you expect him to say it’s all okay?”  
  
“Uhm, yes?”  
  
“Fuck, and here I thought you were better at this relationship thing than I am,” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. He plopped down onto the couch and pulled his laptop out of his bag, placing it on his lap. Iwaizumi’s study habits included stretching out onto the couch, with the TV on as background noise and a can of beer within reach.  
  
Daichi groaned in response.  
  
He padded to his room to get his books, thinking about how grateful he was for Iwaizumi. He had come straight here after storming out of his old apartment, without so much as a text to Iwaizumi. He knew the man lived alone, and the apartment wasn’t too far away from the university, similar to his old one. Daichi had figured he could crash there for a few days until he figured out his living situation, but Iwaizumi quickly put a stop to his “nonsense” and told him that there was a spare room which he could settle into for however long he wanted. And then Iwaizumi proceeded to tend to Daichi’s swollen hand. The next morning, Iwaizumi dragged him out of bed and they ran laps around the campus track oval.  
  
Daichi realized that it was what he needed to calm down, and he finally managed to tell Iwaizumi exactly what happened between him and Suga, and between him and Kuroo, as they had lunch.   
  
Ever since then, Iwaizumi had been taking care of Daichi — brewing coffee in the morning, feeding him, making sure he wasn’t falling behind on the shit-ton of schoolwork they both had. Iwaizumi had even offered to go back to his old apartment for the rest of his things so he didn’t have to talk to Kuroo, which Daichi accepted gratefully.  
  
Iwaizumi was a saint. No wonder Oikawa had fallen so hard for him.  
  
Daichi emerged from his bedroom with his books and his laptop. He dropped them onto the living room floor near Iwaizumi’s feet. He took a beer for himself from the fridge and set it down near his books before kneeling on the floor, facing Iwaizumi.  
  
“Teach me your ways, Iwaizumi-sama,” said Daichi, bowing.  
  
Iwaizumi snorted. “Would you get up? You idiot,” he said, chuckling and shaking his head.  
  
Daichi laughed too and settled on the floor, his back resting on the couch, nearly touching Iwaizumi’s feet. This was their study routine, and Daichi was grateful for it.  
  
“Seriously,” said Daichi after a long silence, not looking up from his books. “What do I do?”  
  
“For real?” asked Iwaizumi, peering at Daichi from above his computer screen. Daichi nodded earnestly.  
  
“Dude, you gotta give him time,” Iwaizumi said, going back to his typing.  
  
“That’s exactly what Oikawa said.”  
  
“And you still sent him that text?”   
  
“What? I sent a text. I didn’t call.”  
  
“You’re a dumbass,” Iwaizumi shook his head, typing away. “Your fucking text was not ‘giving him time’. You need to woo him, not barrage him with… whatever the fuck _that_ was. Like, what would you do if he wasn’t your boyfriend, but you really wanted him to be? What kinds of messages would you send?”  
  
Daichi looked at Iwaizumi and realized that the man wasn’t a saint. He was an all-knowing god.  
  
“You’re a _fucking genius_ , Iwaizumi-sama.”  
  
And that was how Daichi decided to shift tactics, opting to send short, sweet messages to Suga a few times a day. “Good morning.” “Have a great day at school today.” “Don’t forget your lunch.” “I saw this today and it reminded me of you.” “Please take a break.” “Good night.”   
  
Daichi felt more confident about his new strategy. About wooing Suga. It was like they were back in high school. Well, except that in high school, Suga would respond to his messages. It wasn’t like this — complete and utter radio silence from the other end of the conversation. If one could even call it a conversation.  
  
It was more of a monologue, if Daichi was being honest. So by the third day of his new strategy with no visible improvement, he was getting antsy. What could he do? _How much time did Suga need?_  
  
He voiced these concerns to Iwaizumi as they ate their Sunday brunch after jogging around the campus. It was now three weeks since he had barged into Iwaizumi’s life.  
  
“I just… I miss him,” sighed Daichi.  
  
“Then you shouldn’t have done what you did,” replied Iwaizumi. He simply stated a fact, without an accusatory tone, but it still stung. Daichi deserved that.  
  
They ate in silence until both of them finished their meal. Daichi reached for Iwaizumi’s dirty dishes before he began talking again.  
  
“How do you deal with it?” Daichi asked.  
  
“With what?” clarified Iwaizumi, making himself a cup of coffee as Daichi did the dishes.  
  
“Oikawa’s cheating.”  
  
Iwaizumi scoffed, a small, pained smile appearing on his lips. “He says it isn’t cheating.”  
  
“You know what I mean.”  
  
Iwaizumi took a long sip of his coffee, leaning against the kitchen counter. He lowered his head and sighed, as if he were recalling painful memories.  
  
“It _fucking hurts,_ man,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “But it’s his thing. So I take my anger to the gym, and then I’m done.”  
  
“What do you mean, ‘it’s his thing’?”  
  
“Oikawa is…” Iwaizumi’s mouth twisted as he struggled to find the right words before finally settling with, “...you know how he is. He needs attention, so he looks for a temporary fix. He never makes it appear to the other person that he’s single, though. Nothing serious, purely physical. And he tells me about it right after. Those are the terms.”  
  
“It was purely physical with Kuroo,” mused Daichi.  
  
“Yeah, but that’s not _your_ _thing_ ,” said Iwaizumi.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“You’re a serial monogamist, Sawamura,” explained Iwaizumi as Daichi put away the newly washed dishes. “Plus you’re a hopeless romantic. Not to mention, you and Suga have been, like, an old married couple since even before you started officially dating.”  
  
“Okay…?” Daichi cocked an eyebrow.  
  
“So if I’m bothered by Oikawa’s... whatever,” Iwaizumi said slowly, looking pointedly at Daichi, “imagine how Suga feels about what you did.” Iwaizumi took another sip of his coffee.  
  
Iwaizumi’s words were a much-needed splash of cold water to Daichi. He was being a brat. He had no right to act this way, to demand that Suga respond to his wooing, to complain that three weeks of no contact was too much. He had hurt Suga so terribly. He could imagine that his beautiful angel was still hurting. He would be too, after all, if the tables were turned. He couldn’t expect Suga to feel better in three weeks.   
  
Oikawa and Iwaizumi both said to give him time. So that’s what Daichi would do. He wasn’t sure if Suga had already given up on them, but he definitely hadn’t.   
  
Daichi had all the time in the world. And he would give it all to Suga. 

*****

“Suga- _chaaaaaaaan_ ,” Oikawa whined as he snuggled up to Suga in bed.   
  
It had been three weeks since Suga came home, angry and crying, from his trip to Tokyo. Until now, he hadn’t talked to Oikawa about it. He was pretty sure his best friend was getting information from Iwaizumi — after all, Daichi apparently had become Iwaizumi’s new roommate, and Oikawa could get his boyfriend to do absolutely anything.   
  
But maybe three weeks had been far too long, at least between him and Oikawa. He had never refused to talk about things with Oikawa for this long before.  
  
But things had never been this bad.   
  
Suga had been a zombie since he got back. Functioning, yes, but still a zombie. He went to school and did his homework, but he barely talked, he ate a few bites every meal, drank enough water to keep mostly hydrated, and then lay down on his bed, curled up in a fetal position.   
  
“Suga-chan, talk to meeeeee,” said Oikawa, draping himself around Suga. _“Come ooooooon.”_  
  
Suga merely grunted in response.  
  
“Sugawara, spill!” Oikawa didn’t like being ignored, and now he was getting annoyed. Suga could tell. “Or else I’m kicking you out!”  
  
“You can’t kick me out, I live here too. You’re even in my room.”  
  
“I can totally kick you out. And I’m going to. You’re depressing me.”  
  
“Fine.” Suga pushed Oikawa off of himself and then sat up, hugging his knees. Oikawa was on his stomach, his feet dangling in the air, his chin resting on the heels of his hands.  
  
Suga inhaled deeply and let it out in a huff before saying, “He told me slept with Kuroo—”  
  
He paused shortly as Oikawa’s eyes widened.  
  
“—after we had, like, a sex marathon in this really fancy hotel.”  
  
“Wait, _what?_ ” Oikawa repeated, pushing himself into a sitting position similar to Suga’s. “Sawa-chan and _Kuroo_?”  
  
Suga nodded.  
  
“Huh. I never would’ve thought... the two of them...” mused Oikawa, cocking his head to the side.  
  
_“Not the point,”_ Suga hissed, narrowing his eyes at his best friend and letting his legs fall sideways onto the bed.  
  
“Right. Sorry. Go on.”  
  
“And then,” Suga’s tone was changing, turning angrier now, “the _motherfucking rooster head_ comes and tells me that Daichi _rejected_ him and that Daichi had said _my name_ when they fucked so I _had_ to forgive him.”  
  
_“What?!”_  
  
“Right?!” Suga was glad Oikawa was outraged as he was.  
  
“Wait, he said Sawa-chan _rejected_ him?” asked Oikawa, his eyebrows furrowing. “So… Kuroo has _feelings_ for Sawa-chan? And he _confessed_?”  
  
“Apparently,” said Suga, shrugging. “Who the fuck knows. He has feelings for Daichi, Daichi has feelings for him…”  
  
“Stop that!” Oikawa scolded, slapping his hands, which were twisting the hem of his shirt. “Sawa-chan doesn’t have feelings for Kuroo. What the fuck, that’s ridiculous.”  
  
Suga hung his head.  
  
“What did Sawa-chan say? When he told you?” Oikawa asked softly.  
  
“That he was just drunk and angry and that he didn’t mean for it to happen,” Suga replied, his voice losing its bite.  
  
“Then I’m sure that’s exactly what it was,” said Oikawa as he covered Suga’s hands with one of his larger ones. “Whatever the fuck it was to Kuroo, it was _nothing_ to Sawa-chan.”  
  
It was a comforting gesture, and Suga was grateful for it. He looked up at Oikawa, tears welling up in his eyes.   
  
“But how can I be sure? I’m questioning _everything_ now!” cried Suga, the tears finally falling down his cheeks. “Has he done this before? How many times? How could I have been so blind? Did he ever truly love me?” Suga was growing hysterical with every question.  
  
Without warning, Oikawa sat up and slapped him across the face. It wasn’t hard, but Oikawa had still delivered it with enough force to make Suga’s blood rush to the surface, his cheek turning red where Oikawa’s hand had landed.  
  
“What the fuck are you talking about, _‘did he ever truly love me?’_ ” said Oikawa, outraged, his eyebrows meeting in the middle. “Suga-chan, even a blind person can see that Sawa-chan has been fucking _head over heels in love with you_ since high school, and it hasn’t changed until now.”  
  
Suga bit his lower lip. Three weeks ago, he would have bet his life on that. That Daichi was head over heels, completely, utterly, hopelessly in love with him. But now, he wasn’t sure.  
  
They sat there in silence, Suga’s tears coming in quiet torrents. Oikawa shifted again, sitting beside Suga this time. He wrapped an arm around Suga’s shoulders and pulled him close. Suga hid his face in Oikawa’s chest as he sobbed. Oikawa ran his hand up and down Suga’s back.  
  
“So what are you and Sawa-chan now?” Oikawa asked when Suga had finally calmed down, pulling himself away from his friend’s now-soaked shirt.  
  
“I don’t know,” admitted Suga. “We didn’t exactly break up. And he’s still sending me texts every day, things like, _‘have a nice day,’_ shit like that.” Despite himself, Suga smiled. It reminded him of how he and Daichi would text each other every night after volleyball practice, into the wee hours of the morning when one of them finally fell asleep, only to do it all over again the next day.  
  
“I’m guessing you aren’t replying to his texts, though,” said Oikawa knowingly.  
  
Suga shook his head. “I just… it’s still too fresh, I guess? I can’t talk to him. I see his messages but I can’t respond.”  
  
Oikawa gave him a reassuring smile. “You’ll know when you’re ready,” he said, pulling him in again for a quick hug. Suga sighed into Oikawa’s chest before pulling away.  
  
“Okay, so tell me about the sex marathon!” Oikawa giggled.   
  
Suga plopped onto the bed, recalling _that_ part of his last night with Daichi.  
  
“Fuck, it was _sooo good_ ,” he breathed. He looked up at Oikawa, who was still giggling. “Daichi is a sex god.”  
  
“Yes, I believe you’ve told me this, and I said, _‘No way he’s better than Iwa-chan,’_ ” laughed Oikawa. Suga waved a hand, dismissing him.  
  
“I swear, Tooru, his stamina is fucking _insane_. If he hadn’t told me that he’d had sex with Kuroo, we probably would’ve fucked so much, our asses would be so sore the next day we couldn’t walk straight.”  
  
“You switches are so weird,” said Oikawa.  
  
“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” teased Suga.  
  
“Hmm, maybe I should ask Iwa-chan,” mused Oikawa with a sly smile.  
  
“Go for it.” 

*****

Two more weeks passed. Daichi was still sending messages every day, and Suga was still reading them without responding. At some point, Daichi began sending flowers for Suga every day, like clockwork. His and Oikawa’s apartment was starting to look like a flower shop.  
  
Still, Suga hadn’t replied to any of Daichi’s messages. When Oikawa asked why, Suga only said, “I’m not yet ready.”  
  
But Oikawa believed that Suga _was_ ready, except that his pride was getting in the way. On the one hand, it was fucking stupid. On the other, Oikawa knew exactly how that felt. He would be that way often too, too proud to make up, even though Iwaizumi was on his knees.   
  
It was up to Oikawa to give his best friend the little push he needed.  
  
“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa called into the screen as Iwaizumi’s face appeared.   
  
_“Hey, Shittykawa,”_ Iwaizumi greeted him with a wink, and Oikawa could have melted on the spot.  
  
“I miss you, Iwa-chan,” whined Oikawa.  
  
_“I miss you too,”_ Iwaizumi responded softly. Oikawa’s heart fluttered in his chest. He relished these moments, when Iwaizumi would admit that he had feelings.  
  
_“How are you?”_ asked Iwaizumi. _“How’s Suga?”_  
  
“I’m perfect, as always,” Oikawa batted his eyelashes. “But Suga-chan is becoming a fucking nightmare!”  
  
_“Yep, tell me about it,”_ Iwaizumi huffed.  
  
“I take it Sawa-chan is the same?”  
  
_“He keeps bugging me every day about how Suga never responds,”_ Iwaizumi groaned. _“Every day it's, ‘I know he reads my texts!’ and, ‘Has he gotten the flowers yet?’, and ‘Come on, Koushi, just one text!’”_  
  
Oikawa giggled. Iwaizumi was so cute when he was whining.  
  
_“So has Suga been getting the flowers?”_ Iwaizumi asked.  
  
“Oh, he gets them, all right,” said Oikawa sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Welcome to the newest flower shop in Sendai,” he said dryly.  
  
Iwaizumi laughed. _“So, what’re you doing about it?”_  
  
“Whatever do you mean, Iwa-chan?” said Oikawa, feigning innocence, resting his chin on his hand.  
  
It was Iwaizumi’s turn to roll his eyes. _“Just spill, Shittykawa. If you want me to help you, that is.”_  
  
Oikawa wiggled his eyebrows and laughed. “Your semester’s over too, right?” He saw Iwaizumi’s image on the screen nod.  
  
“Just get your tight round ass over here as soon as you can,” he said with a wink. “And make sure you bring that big whiny Sawa-chan with you.”  
  
_“Yes, captain,”_ Iwaizumi replied, his voice low and rough. It went straight to Oikawa’s dick.  
  
_“_ _Iwa-chan...”_ the name came out in moan, Oikawa’s eyes fluttering closed.  
  
_“I’m gonna fuck you raw when I get there,”_ Iwaizumi promised.  
  
Oikawa recalled his previous conversation with Suga and his eyes flew open.  
  
“Iwa-chan!” he said excitedly. “You’ll let me top you, right?”  
  
_“What?”_ Iwaizumi asked incredulously.  
  
“You’ll let me top you! So we can try being switches!”  
  
_“No fucking way.”_  
  
“But Iwa-chaaaaan!” Oikawa whined. “Suga-chan said—”  
  
_“Nope!”_ Iwaizumi cut him off right away. _“Don’t wanna hear it, nope nope nope.”_  
  
“But I can be a good top too!”   
  
_“This conversation is over,”_ said Iwaizumi dryly.  
  
“Mean, Iwa-chan!”  
  
_“Goodbye.”_ Iwaizumi winked at Oikawa and ended the call. Oikawa chuckled as he lay down on the bed, staring into the ceiling.  
  
Time to play Cupid.

*****

Daichi came home from his run and found Iwaizumi in his room, packing. He knocked softly on the open door. Iwaizumi turned to look at him.  
  
“Going home?” Daichi asked, motioning towards Iwaizumi’s open suitcase.  
  
“Not exactly,” said Iwaizumi, smirking. “Got any plans next week?” he asked.  
  
Daichi frowned. “Um… no, I don’t think so.” It was the semestral break, and Daichi usually spent it in Sendai with Suga, or here in Tokyo with Suga. But there was no Suga now — temporarily, Daichi hoped.  
  
So no, he didn’t have plans.  
  
“You do now,” said Iwaizumi, resuming his packing. “We’re visiting Sendai.”  
  
“Um… Sendai? As in—”  
  
“As in, I miss my man, and it’s time you got yours back,” said Iwaizumi firmly.  
  
Daichi smiled. He was finally going to see Suga. He figured Suga wanted to see him and told Oikawa and Iwaizumi. Because why else was he being invited to Sendai? His heart started thundering in his chest. The mere thought of breathing the same air as Suga after six weeks of fucking limbo drove Daichi nearly insane. He couldn’t wait.  
  
He nodded at Iwaizumi and then turned towards his bedroom.  
  
He was finally seeing Suga again.  
  
Daichi could float in mid-air.

*****

“How long is Iwa staying?” asked Suga as they were having lunch.  
  
“About a week,” replied Oikawa, stuffing his face with food.  
  
Suga nodded wordlessly. Under normal circumstances, he’d be traveling now too, either to Tokyo to be with Daichi, or back home, with Daichi in tow, to visit their families for the break. But now, there was no Daichi.   
  
Suga sighed. He was happy for Oikawa, that he was finally seeing his boyfriend again. Suga just wished that he could be with his too.  
  
Were they _still_ even boyfriends? Six weeks of no communication, _or rather, one-sided communication,_ was a long time. But no one had broken up with the other — not outright, at least. Daichi could have easily done it through text, seeing as he kept sending them, but he didn’t. Suga supposed he could have easily done the same, but he didn’t either. He didn’t want to.  
  
He wanted to fix this. He wanted to be with Daichi. Because even after everything, he was still madly in love with the man. He longed to see him, touch him, taste him, hear his voice, feel his breath.  
  
But he hadn’t figured out what it would mean to see each other, _to finally talk,_ after all this time. Did that mean they would sweep everything under the rug, pretend it never happened like Daichi said he wished he could do? Would they talk it out, get to the bottom of why it even happened in the first place?  
  
What did this mean for their relationship? Suga didn’t know. And he was scared to find out. Because what if it meant that this was the end?  
  
“Suga-chan?” came Oikawa’s voice. “Are you okay?”  
  
Suga didn’t realize that he had been staring off into nothing. He quickly snapped himself back to reality and nodded at Oikawa.  
  
“Yes, I’m fine,” he said. “Should I be getting out of the apartment? As much as I enjoy our talks about your sex life, Tooru, I really don’t want to _hear_ it happening in real-time. And I don’t want an opportunity to see it, either.” He added the last part after a pause.  
  
Oikawa laughed. “Don’t worry, Iwa-chan and I will be going out as soon as he gets here, so you’ll actually have the apartment to yourself.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
“Although, maybe you should make sure you’re asleep before we get back,” Oikawa mused. “You know, so you don’t _hear_ us.” He stuck his tongue out at Suga, who grabbed a paper towel, crumpled it up into a ball, and threw it across the table at Oikawa. It missed by a hair.  
  
“Some setter you are,” scoffed Oikawa.  
  
“We can’t all be the best setter in the prefecture,” Suga replied, rolling his eyes.  
  
“No, we can’t,” said Oikawa, puffing out his chest.  
  
The doorbell interrupted their banter. Oikawa practically skipped to the door, opening it to allow Iwaizumi to enter. Suga purposely stuffed his mouth with food at that exact moment so he wouldn’t have to look at the two of them kissing, which he was sure they’d be doing the second they laid eyes on each other.  
  
“Suga-chan,” cooed Oikawa, “Looks like you have a visitor!”   
  
Suga turned to look at the door, and there he was. That messy black hair. Those dark eyes, that square jaw. Those broad shoulders. _Those fucking thighs._  
  
It was Daichi. 

*****

On the train to Sendai, Daichi had listened to Iwaizumi as he explained the plan. Suga didn’t know Daichi was coming, apparently. It was all Oikawa’s idea. He’ll love it, Oikawa had said, he’ll realize how much he misses you, and then everything will be better.  
  
To Daichi, though, it just felt like pressuring Suga into making a decision — _I’m here now, so choose: either we break up, or everything is forgiven._ He didn’t like it, but he didn’t really see any other viable option. Six weeks was a long time. It wasn’t normal for people in a seriously committed relationship to not talk for six weeks. He had to do something.   
  
Daichi’s legs were jelly from the moment he and Iwaizumi got off the train. He had never felt this nervous before. But the nervousness, the jelly legs, the erratic heartbeats — they were a small price to pay for a chance to get Suga back. And Daichi was willing to gamble everything he had for his shot at heaven.  
  
Daichi entered the apartment Oikawa called out to Suga. He caught sight of the latest bouquet of flowers he had sent sitting prettily on top of the coffee table. Beyond that, a flash of silver caught his eye.  
  
It was as if Daichi’s entire world had gone into slow motion. He watched as Suga swallowed his food, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, his tongue flicking out to lick the morsels off of his pink lips. His hair moved in the imaginary wind as he turned his head towards the door, his cowlick sticking up as always. His long eyelashes fluttered as he blinked.  
  
Suga was wearing his old black and orange volleyball shorts and a t-shirt with a large cartoon shrimp on the front. It instantly took Daichi back to one of their last training camps in Tokyo, when he and Suga, who was wearing that exact same t-shirt, had fallen asleep holding hands under the covers, their futons touching to form a makeshift double bed where they lay together. Asahi had noticed but said nothing, merely smiled at both of them as he said good night.  
  
Suga had never looked more beautiful.  
  
“Uhm.”  
  
Daichi didn’t realize that Suga was now standing a foot away from him. He was keeping his distance, Daichi realized, and it squeezed at his heart a little bit. Suga was so scared of getting hurt again that he had to physically keep away.  
  
“Hi,” Daichi managed breathily.  
  
“C’mon, Iwa-chan, we’re gonna be late!” Oikawa said from somewhere behind Daichi. He heard Iwaizumi trying to protest, but ended up being dragged by Oikawa out the door anyway. Suddenly, he and Suga were alone.  
  
After six weeks, they were finally together. Alone. In Suga’s living room.  
  
Why did Daichi feel like he’d forgotten how to be alone with Suga?   
  
Daichi swallowed the lump in his throat. He looked around the room desperately until his eyes fell on the bouquet again.  
  
“Um… You got the flowers.” _That was so lame._  
  
“Yeah,” replied Suga softly, twisting the hem of his t-shirt in his fingers.  
  
“Good.” _Fuck, that was even worse._  
  
“Daichi—”  
  
“Koushi.” Suga looked up, and Daichi looked straight into those soft brown eyes. He had missed those eyes.   
  
“I’m sorry for barging in like this,” said Daichi. “I just really wanted to see you. Maybe talk to you.” His voice was getting softer, thicker with emotion. He held Suga’s gaze, bracing himself for the other man to turn away, to glare at him, to show any sign of hate or anger, much like the last time.  
  
There was hurt in Suga’s eyes. But Daichi also saw a hint of the affection that he knew so well.  
  
Encouraged, Daichi took a minuscule step forward, closing the distance between them ever so slightly. Suga didn’t move.  
  
“I can leave,” Daichi breathed. “Just say the word.”  
  
Suga didn’t say anything. Daichi took another tiny step.  
  
They were silent, staring into each other’s eyes for a long minute, until Suga took a step forward, leaving nothing but an inch of space between them. His expression was stern, but not hateful, not angry. Daichi could see the wall that Suga had put up to protect himself.  
  
“Kuroo told me that you rejected him,” said Suga, still holding Daichi’s gaze. “Is that true?”  
  
“Yes.”   
  
“He told me that you said my name when you fucked.” Daichi winced at the word, but didn’t look away. “Is that true too?”  
  
_Fucking Kuroo._ When did he even talk to Suga?  
  
Daichi had played that part over and over again in his head. It took a while before it finally came back to him. The more he had wracked his brain to dissect that night, the more he remembered. And he remembered that he had moaned Suga’s name as he came that night, like he usually did when he and Suga made love. In his mind and in his heart, he was with Suga that night. Not Kuroo. _Suga._  
  
“Yes.” Daichi could feel his face getting warmer. He wasn’t sure whether it made or broke his case. But he could never lie to Suga. He was asked a question, and he answered truthfully.  
  
Suga’s gaze was now searching. It was like he was going through Daichi’s soul. _Are you telling the truth? Are you screwing me over again?_ it seemed to ask. And Daichi willed every cell in his body to convey, through his eyes, that _no he was not, he was so in love with the man in front of him, there was no one else._  
  
“I honestly don’t know how that makes me feel,” Suga finally said after a long pause, finally letting his head drop, his gaze now on the floor.  
  
The wall had fallen.  
  
Daichi took the last step that finally closed the distance between them. He took Suga’s round face into his hands, cupping his cheeks, and kissed him fervently. He could feel Suga slowly melting into the kiss, his hands traveling upwards and settling on Daichi’s wrists.   
  
Daichi pulled away slowly and leaned his forehead on Suga’s, looking down at their feet.  
  
“It’s true. I thought about you when I was with him. I know that doesn’t make it better. It probably even makes it worse. But,” Daichi flicked his eyes up and looked into Suga’s, “I couldn’t think of anyone else. _I could never think of anyone else._ ”  
  
Suga had missed those eyes.  
  
He couldn’t remember what lay behind those eyes six weeks ago. His own were too full of tears and anger and pain to register the equal pain that Daichi held in his. But now, Suga could see it.   
  
_“Koushi, you’re the love of my life.”_  
  
Daichi was holding back tears, just like he was. Daichi’s pain threatened to spill out, and he wanted to take it away. Despite everything, despite his own broken heart, he still wanted to take away Daichi’s pain, to make him feel better.  
  
“I’m sorry I did it,” said Daichi thickly, running a thumb back and forth over Suga’s cheekbone. “I have no excuse. I’m sorry I hurt you. _I’m sorry. I’m so sorry._ ”  
  
They both stood there, as if frozen, nothing moving but their chests, up and down as they breathed the same air, nothing but their eyes as they both blinked through the tears they were each shedding. Suga was trembling, and he knew Daichi could feel it.  
  
“It hurt,” Suga finally said, releasing one of Daichi’s wrists and gripping tightly at his shirt, near his heart. “It hurt so much. That you were with someone else. It broke my trust. My heart.”  
  
Daichi released Suga’s face and took the hand on his chest, intertwining their fingers and letting their arms drop to the side.  
  
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” said Daichi, his other hand brushing away the loose strands of grey hair on Suga’s face. “But _please,_ Koushi, please let me make it up to you. I promise I’ll work really hard to earn your trust back.”  
  
Fresh tears started rolling down Suga’s cheeks. Daichi immediately thumbed them away, brushing his lips softly at the streaks they left behind.   
  
“I’ll work hard to show you that I’m yours,” whispered Daichi in between kisses, “that I’m no one else’s. I’m yours completely, Sugawara Koushi.”  
  
It was Suga’s turn to cup Daichi’s face, pushing him away to take a good look at him. Daichi had never lied to him. Even in that worst moment, when Daichi told him about Kuroo, he was still telling the truth. And Suga could see the truth now in Daichi’s eyes. Sawamura Daichi was his, and he was determined to prove himself all over again. Suga could see it.  
  
Suga wanted to believe it.  
  
Daichi crashed his lips onto Suga’s again. Suga could feel Daichi pouring himself into the kiss, into Suga, pleading with him, _please forgive me, please give me another chance, please._  
  
When they finally broke apart, Suga was crying again.  
  
“The worst thing is, even after everything, I still love you,” he croaked. “I love you so fucking much.”  
  
“Why is that the worst thing?”  
  
“Because it always hurt. No matter what I did, it always hurt.” Suga was sobbing again, burying his face into Daichi’s broad chest. “It hurt to be with you, knowing you were with someone else. But it hurt to be without you, too, because even after all of that, I still wanted to be with you.”  
  
He tried to compose himself, wiping his tears away with the heel of his hand.  
  
“I never wanted to be without you, Daichi.”  
  
“And I never wanted to be with anyone else but you,” replied Daichi, again taking Suga’s face into both hands. “I’m yours, Koushi. Always have been, always will be.”  
  
He planted a kiss on Suga’s forehead, and then on each cheek, and then on his nose, and finally on his lips.  
  
“Please believe me,” Daichi whispered against his lips, eyes closed. _“Please forgive me.”_  
  
“I want to, Dai,” Suga breathed. “But it still hurts.”  
  
Suga pulled away again. His head was swimming. He didn’t know what to do. Being with Daichi just now — their fingers intertwined, their bodies flush against each other, their lips crashing together — felt safe and warm. It felt like home. Suga was finally home. After roaming around aimlessly in the woods, _he was home_. But at the same time, home didn’t feel the same. There were weird cracks on the walls. Things were in disarray. It felt the same, but also different.   
  
Daichi took a step backward, releasing Suga’s face. The distance between them was back.  
  
“It’s okay,” he breathed. His lips were red and swollen, and his cheeks were equally flushed. “I’ll wait. I’ll wait forever.”  
  
Suga watched as Daichi turned away. He watched as the man he loved slowly slung the oversized backpack onto his shoulders and headed for the door.  
  
Did it really matter that home felt different?  
  
Wasn’t it more important that _it still felt like home_? Even if things were in disarray, even if he needed to get things repaired?  
  
Despite everything, wasn’t it still home? Wasn’t that the important part? That he was _finally home?_  
  
“Daichi!”  
  
Suga crossed the room and threw his arms around Daichi’s neck. He instantly covered Daichi’s mouth with his, his tongue immediately seeking entrance. He felt Daichi open his mouth just as he heard the backpack fall to the floor with a loud thud. Suga allowed himself to be pulled against Daichi’s hips, and then pushed backward, both of them walking slowly towards his bedroom.  
  
Daichi leaned back, pulling away, and Suga felt the sudden cold of the air around them, now that his lips weren’t against Daichi’s. The taller man looked at him through hooded eyes.  
  
“I want you, Koushi,” said Daichi, his voice low and breathless. “No one else. Always have, always will.”  
  
Suga responded by pulling Daichi back into a hungry kiss, running his hands under Daichi’s shirt, down his toned back. He felt Daichi’s hands press into his hips, cup his backside, and then run down the backs of his thighs. He jumped as Daichi pulled him up and carried him into the bedroom, his ankles locked behind Daichi’s hips.  
  
He felt Daichi’s hands supporting his body as it slowly made contact with the mattress. He watched as Daichi expertly peeled off every article of Suga’s clothing, beginning with his shrimp t-shirt, and then off of his own body. He felt Daichi lower his body onto his, calloused fingers expertly running up and down his skin, causing goosebumps everywhere. He inhaled Daichi’s scent, strong and sweet at the same time. He tasted the salt on Daichi’s neck, on his chest, a flavor that he had been craving for so long and could never get enough.  
  
He felt Daichi all over him, his body tingling with electricity at every point of contact. Suga couldn’t get closer, couldn’t get enough. Daichi was wet and warm on his neck, on his chest, on his abdomen, on the insides of his thighs, and Suga was dripping, begging, sobbing, his need for Daichi too much. He felt Daichi hard and throbbing against his stomach, felt Daichi’s fingers slick against his entrance, pushing in, opening him up ever so slowly, so gently, so lovingly.   
  
And then finally, _finally,_ Daichi was pinning him down, filling him up, stretching him out with every movement. It was slow and gentle at first, peppered with soft kisses on his lips, behind his ear, down his neck, along his collarbone. And then it became more forceful, more intense, the kisses turning into dark bruises all over his body. Daichi was tearing him apart and _fuck yes_ it felt so good to be split open at the seams by this man, just the way he liked it.  
  
He felt Daichi wrap a hand around him, tugging at him and pushing into him all at once, giving him exactly what he wanted at exactly the right moment, and _fuck,_ _Daichi,_ it was _so good_ he needed _more_ , he needed it _harder, please,_ and Daichi obliged, _yes Daichi right there_ , over and over again, until Suga was blubbering, grunting, clenching tightly around him, coaxing every last drop out of him, Daichi practically shouting his name, until he came undone onto Daichi’s fingers, arching his back, screaming Daichi’s name into the high heavens.  
  
Suga panted as Daichi kissed the top of his head before collapsing onto the bed beside him. They were both too spent to even bother cleaning up, and Suga figured he’d just wash his sheets later.   
  
He felt a large arm slip under his neck and another one wrap around his waist. Suga snuggled in closer, still couldn’t get enough of Daichi. He buried his face in the crook of Daichi’s neck, and Daichi planted another kiss on his temple.  
  
“Thank you,” he heard Daichi say.  
  
“For what?”  
  
“For giving us another chance.”  
  
Suge looked up at Daichi and smiled. “I don’t think I ever really gave up.”  
  
“Then thank you for that.” Daichi returned the smile and pulled him in closer. He rested his head on Daichi’s bare chest.  
  
It felt like home.   
  
They lay still for a while, breathing each other in quietly. The silence was comfortable and familiar. _Daichi_ was comfortable and familiar.  
  
Daichi felt like home.  
  
“Dai?” Suga didn’t bother looking up at Daichi. “Did you mean it?  
  
“Hmm?”   
  
“That I’m the love of your life?”  
  
It was Daichi who pulled him away this time, only to lean in again with a soft kiss. “Of course,” he said softly, sincerity thick in his voice. “You’re the love of my life, Sugawara Koushi.”  
  
“How do you know that?” asked Suga.  
  
“I just do,” replied Daichi, brushing his lips right below Suga’s left eye.   
  
Suga wrapped his arm around Daichi’s waist tightly.  
  
And in that moment, he knew that they were both home. 

*****

“Do you think they’ve made up?” Iwaizumi asked Oikawa as they climbed the stairs of the building towards the apartment. Oikawa had insisted they stay out until it got dark so that Daichi and Suga could work things out. Iwaizumi had protested at first, saying he was tired, but one look from Oikawa shut him up.  
  
“Definitely,” replied Oikawa confidently. “Sawa-chan would’ve already texted you that he’d gone and taken the train back to Tokyo if they hadn’t.”  
  
Oikawa started to unlock the door of the apartment.  
  
“In that case, do you think it’s safe to enter?”  
  
Oikawa snorted and pushed the door open, leaning against it as Iwaizumi stepped inside.  
  
_“Oh fuck, Daichi! Daichiiiii!”_ came Suga’s voice from inside his bedroom. The man was positively screaming, causing Iwaizumi to jump, and then scowl.  
  
Oikawa grinned widely and slammed the door shut, the sound echoing across the entire floor of the apartment building.  
  
_“Keep it the fuck down, Suga-chan!”_ he called out.   
  
“Motherfuckers,” Iwaizumi muttered under his breath as he slipped off his shoes and took off his jacket. Oikawa snickered as he shook off his own jacket and dropped the keys near the door.  
  
They settled onto the couch, flicking on the TV. Iwaizumi raised the volume so loudly that Oikawa had to smack his hand to keep him from pressing the button further.  
  
“The neighbors are gonna complain!” Oikawa scolded.  
  
“You really think they haven’t complained yet?” Iwaizumi snapped, jerking his head towards Suga’s bedroom.  
  
“Surprisingly, they don’t seem to mind moaning and screaming so much,” said Oikawa, giggling. Iwaizumi grunted something incomprehensible, and then lay down on the couch, resting his head on Oikawa’s lap.   
  
Oikawa leaned close to Iwaizumi’s ear and whispered, “You do know that we’re gonna have to beat them tonight, right?”  
  
Iwaizumi cocked an eyebrow.  
  
“You’re gonna have to make me scream louder than that.” Oikawa winked and stuck his tongue out at Iwaizumi before grabbing the remote control from him and changing the channel.  
  
Oikawa heard Suga’s bedroom door open, and he turned to see a very red-faced Daichi, with his hair sticking out everywhere. Suga soon emerged, his hair in an equal state of unruliness. Both of them were wearing the same clothes as earlier, except now full of wrinkles.   
  
“So,” began Oikawa, the teasing lilt in his voice on full blast, “you guys all caught up on the sex marathon?” He followed the couple with his eyes as they padded to the kitchen. Suga grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and handed one to Daichi before twisting the other open and taking a gulp.  
  
Oikawa was enjoying watching Daichi get redder by the second, but he knew Suga could take it.   
  
“Hm, no limping? Either of you? Maybe you’re not _all_ _caught up_ yet, then.”  
  
“We’re taking it slow,” Suga replied casually.  
  
“ _Slow_ , huh?” Oikawa threw an arm over the back of the couch to look at them better. “Oh but, Suga-chan, what’s that on your neck?”   
  
“Oh, _this_?” Suga moved his head to the side, stretching his neck and proudly displaying the dark red bruise right at the juncture between his shoulder and his neck. Daichi’s face was now impossibly red.  
  
“Looks like Sawa-chan was a little _rough_ on you there,” said Oikawa, grinning. Daichi sputtered and quickly turned around to face the sink, where he spit out his water.  
  
“Slow and rough,” Suga nodded, pursing his lips and taking a long swig from the water bottle. “Just the way I like—”  
  
_“For the love of god, please stop!”_ Iwaizumi exclaimed, sitting up abruptly. “I can’t listen to any more talk about Sawamura’s sex life!”  
  
Daichi gave a small bow towards Iwaizumi from across the room. “Thank you, Iwaizumi-sama.”  
  
_“Iwaizumi-sama?”_ echoed Suga incredulously, facing Daichi with an eyebrow raised.  
  
“That’s right, ‘cause Iwa-chan is a _fucking god_ ,” said Oikawa with a smirk. “Just you wait, Sawa-chan. You’ll hear Iwa-chan’s sex life tonight too.”  
  
“Don’t you mean _‘hear about’_?” asked Daichi.  
  
“Nope!” Oikawa turned to face the TV. “I meant you’ll hear us having sex.” 

*****

The week passed beautifully. Daichi had spent every waking moment with Suga, desperate to make up for lost time. It was like they had just started dating again, and Daichi felt like a giddy high schooler.  
  
Now they were taking their sweet time to say goodbye to each other, as Iwaizumi and Daichi had to leave to go back to Tokyo.  
  
“When will you visit again?” Suga asked softly, his arms around Daichi’s neck. They were in Suga’s kitchen, where the four of them had just finished lunch. Oikawa and Iwaizumi were in the bedroom, where Iwaizumi was doing some last-minute packing.  
  
“I’m not yet sure, but I’ll try to come as soon as I can, okay?” Daichi kissed the top of Suga’s head.  
  
“I’m gonna miss you,” Suga whined.   
  
“I’m gonna miss you too.” Daichi wrapped his arms around Suga’s waist, pulling him closer. “But we’ll call and text each other every day. Just like we always did.”  
  
“Promise?”  
  
“Of course, I promise.” He kissed Suga’s cheek, right on the beauty mark under his eye.  
  
They stood there in the middle of the kitchen for a long while, breathing each other in. Daichi didn’t want to let go. He had just gotten Suga back, and he didn’t want to let go. Although he knew that Suga wasn’t going anywhere, he was still finding it very difficult to pull away.  
  
“Oi!” Iwaizumi finally called from near the front door. “We gotta get moving, Sawamura!”  
  
Daichi pulled away from Suga but held on to his hand. He pulled his boyfriend to the entrance of the apartment, where he slipped on his shoes before cupping Suga’s cheek and leaning in for a kiss. Suga kissed him back, as if to say, _I love you, never let me go,_ and Daichi responded with equal fervor.  
  
“Oh my god, just stop it, you two!” whined Oikawa.   
  
“You shouldn’t have gotten them back together,” muttered Iwaizumi.  
  
“I know right,” said Oikawa, scowling at Daichi and Suga.  
  
Daichi pulled away, and then leaned in again to quickly give Suga a peck on the lips. Suga smiled up at him, and he could have melted on the spot.  
  
“I love you, Dai.”  
  
“I love you too.”  
  
“I just threw up in my mouth a little,” said Oikawa, making a gagging noise.  
  
“Fuck off,” said Suga, laughing.  
  
“Can we fucking go now?” Iwaizumi grumbled.  
  
Finally, Daichi managed to peel himself away from Suga, and he and Iwaizumi made it to their train and got home safely. Before they each retired to their bedrooms for the night, Iwaizumi clapped a hand to Daichi's back and ruffled his hair.   
  
“I’m glad you didn’t fuck that up, man,” said Iwaizumi, chuckling softly.  
  
“Yeah, me too,” Daichi smiled. "Thanks again."   
  
Iwaizumi gave a curt nod before entering his bedroom, closing the door behind him.   
  
Daichi spent a few minutes on his bed exchanging texts with Suga before saying good night. He got a “Good night, boyfriend,” in reply, and his heart fluttered in its cage. He was a giddy high schooler, but he didn't care. He had gotten back the love of his life, and he wasn't going to fuck up again.   
  
Daichi was half asleep when his phone pinged again. He lifted it slowly, squinting at the harsh light in the darkness, and then frowned.   
  
It was a text from Kuroo.  
  
Daichi thought he had blocked Kuroo’s number. _I guess not,_ thought Daichi, as he debated for a second whether he should read the message. He decided to go for it.  
  
_From Kuroo:_  
_I’m glad you guys got back together. I really am.  
You turned out better than Akaashi and I did.  
Congratulations on getting him back. _  
  
Daichi read the message again. He didn't know how Kuroo knew, but that was likely from mutual friends. He also didn’t know that Kuroo and Akaashi had broken up. He felt bad for them. Akaashi indeed deserved better, deserved someone who could love him completely. But Kuroo wasn’t a bad guy either, and he too deserved love.  
  
_To Kuroo:_  
_Thanks. And I’m sorry to hear about you and Akaashi._  
  
_From Kuroo:_  
_Thanks. He’s doing much better than I am, I think.  
I need to do some soul-searching first. _  
_Anyway, congratulations again._  
_Never let him go. Ever._  
  
_To Kuroo:_  
_Don’t worry. I won’t._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that made up for the lateness of this conclusion! I honestly struggled to bring Kuroo back, but I guess this will have to do. 
> 
> Also, I couldn't help but include OiSuga banter! I had so much fun writing them, I could have gone on forever with just OiSuga's clingy best friend relationship. 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who's left kudos! Please keep them coming and let me know what you think of this fic in the comments. <3


End file.
